


The Lisping Consulting 6 year-old

by 221beester



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adorable, Adult John Watson, Age Regression/De-Aging, Anal Sex, Chemistry, Drunk Sherlock, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Growing Pains, Jealous Sherlock, Kid Sherlock, M/M, Nice parents, Oral Sex, Pain, Science Experiments, Sexy Times, Sherlock Holmes and Bees, Smut, Swimming, Tickle Fights, lisping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:39:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 34,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221beester/pseuds/221beester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock accidently regresses to a six year old, and John has to deal with the consequences: both good and bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again! My email friend from Omegle is helping to write this, and we currently have over 35 pages on a word document, but I should post a chapter every week, most probably on a Saturday. She's writing John, and I'm Sherlock. I apologise for any mistakes, I am British but my spelling is awful XD I'm not yet prepared for writing smut so will keep stuff fairly censored.
> 
> Hope you like it!

JOOOOHN -SH

What?! -JW

I drank some of that fluid I was testing, and now I appear to be a child -SH

You drank- I'm sorry, come again?! You're a child? -JW

What were you even testing and why did you drink it! -JW

John, I don't know how to put it simpler. And I was bored. -SH

...You don't drink chemicals because you are bored. Sorry, I was just... shocked. -JW

Yes, yes well I would appreciate some help. I'm in my room. -SH

Coming -JW

Thank you –SH

 

"Sherlock?" John called out, still quite stunned and not sure what to expect as he went up the stairs, knocking on the man's door, before turning the knob.                                

"Oh." Was all he said as he was confronted with the child that his flatmate had turned into, swallowing heavily. He wasn't kidding. Jesus Christ. The sight of the 6 year old Sherlock made him both want to shout at his room-mate and hug him. Sherlock's voice was much higher and a lisp was clear.

"John. I made a mithtake." 


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's reaction to a now small Sherlock, with a little help from Mycroft.

"John. I made a mithtake." 

"I can see that," John scanned the little boy. All Sherlock's features were there, but it was just so strange... John was slightly at a loss. "Are you otherwise alright?" He softened his tone.  
"Yeth, I think tho. Jutht a bit of a headache." He looked at John pitifully and sat down hard on his bed. "What do I do, I can't even tholve crimeth like thith!" His eyes stung as tears threatened to come.

John sighed a little, as he overcame the last of his shock and kneeled down beside the boy that was his former flatmate. "It might be temporary," He said hopefully, "And then it will wear off, and you can go back to solving crimes, hmm? You won't stay this way forever, I promise, and it will all be fine."

Sherlock leant towards John. "But what if it doth'nt? I drank the whole bloody beaker to tetht the effecth!" He waved his hands manically and sighed. "I'm thuch an idiot, John."  
John hesitated for a minute, before placing a hand on his slight shoulder, "We'll tell someone, and they can come up with an antidote." He said with as much conviction as he could muster, "Mycroft is sure to have scientists who can manage that. Calm down, Sherlock."

Sherlock sat there quietly for a second, before nodding slowly. "I think there'th thom left, I could give it to him." He looked John in the eye and smiled. "You know, I'm lucky to have you. Everyone elth would have run away by now."

"I could hardly have left you here, could I? That wouldn't have been right." John found himself smiling back, "You should go get some sleep, so the headache will wear off. Tell me where the beaker is and I'll give it to Mycroft, so he can start working on it, alright? We'll get you back to normal as soon as possible."

Sherlock grinned widely, revealing two huge front teeth. "Thank you, it'th on the edge of the table, you bright blue labeled one." He frowned. "But I thlept yethterday, I don't need to thleep for another three dayth!"

John scoffed at that. He's still the same, he recognised fondly, "But things have changed since yesterday, haven't they?" He said patiently, "You need the sleep, so come on. Lie down." He tells the boy, almost firmly, hoping he'll be easier to be convince than usual, "You're welcome." It is unusual to get those two words from Sherlock, with such sincerity, and it makes John feel warm, and his smile widens.

Sherlock rolled his eyes but lay down. "Honethtly, you'd think you were my mother, John." He smirked and pulled the duvet over himself. He paused and looked at John again. “Do we have to tell Mycroft? He'll only laugh and choke on hith cake."

John bit back a laugh at that mental image, but shrugged, "We don't have an excuse to give..." He shook his head, "Let him laugh and choke then." He rolled his eyes as well, but was generally pleased that Sherlock actually obeyed, "God forbid that." He stood, "I'll go handle it now, then. Sleep." He leant over and adjusted the duvet, before turning to leave, "No trying to sneak out." he warned, knowing Sherlock.

Sherlock giggled at his own mental image of a choking Mycroft and yawned suddenly. "Maybe thith will fade, ath much ath I like you doing thith, I want to be normal again. Or ath close to normal ath I wath before." He blinked slowly and smiled sleepily. "Thtill not my mother, John."

"Still not wanting to take that position, Sherlock." John reminded him, turning as he reached the doorway, "I want the same... I want you an adult again, though you'll probably just act similarly... normal, normal is boring." There was a smile in his voice as he closed the door, letting Sherlock fall asleep. He was too tired now to do much, clearly, so John didn’t worry about that. Instead he headed downstairs again. Bright blue labeled beaker, hmm? He spotted it on the table, and rang Mycroft.

"Dr Watson, how nice to hear from you. Has he burnt down the flat?" He said with a hint of amusement in his voice.  
"No, no. The flat is fine and standing, actually." John inspected the empty beaker in his hand as he spoke, "The situation is... stranger. This time. Your brother managed to turn himself... into a child."

Mycroft's eyebrows raised dramatically and he hummed. "And might I ask what he's planning to do now?"  
"He wants to change back, and we were wondering if you could help."  
"Naturally, of course. Have you got a formula or anything for us?"

"There's the beaker that contained the liquid here, in my hands right now. Could you send someone to come pick it up?"  
"There'll be someone there in 5 minutes. Is Sherlock ... occupied? I really hope he hasn't regressed mentally as well." He cringed to himself.

"No, he's... in bed. Sleeping, I made him. He seems coherent enough, but I don't know." John shrugged, "Thanks for that."  
"It's quite alright. That's good news then. The last thing we want is Sherlock when he was younger. Might I ask how you got him to sleep?"

"He had a slight headache, so I told him to get some rest. By then, he was already sleepy." John was now curious, "Was he really that bad?"  
"He was a hellish child, you can imagine. Ask him to do something and he was already experimenting on something. I honestly pitied the cat." He chuckled softly. "He had his good moments though."

"I'm sure he did." John smiled briefly, "So not much different from now then, did your cat... survive?" Part of him didn't want to know.  
"No, quite the same. Yes thankfully, it was just left mentally scarred for the rest of its life." He grimaced.

"Ah yes, now he has his cases. The poor cat, I shall bear this in mind before I decide to get any pets." John laughed, hearing the bell, "Alright, I think whoever you sent is here. I'll keep you updated."  
"Thank you for informing me, John. But, please, do look after him." Mycroft softened. "He does mean a lot to me, even if he does drive me from 221B with his torturous violin. Goodbye, Dr Watson."

"I will." John said reliably. And he knew, despite their squabbles, that they did care for each other. Even Sherlock showed affection for Mycroft, "Goodbye." He answered the door, "Hello," and handed the beaker over to the man.  
The man nodded at John and carried it carefully to the black car. "I hope he isn't stuck like that." He smiled. "Good luck." He climbed back into the car and drove off.

"So do I." John said mostly to himself, "Thanks." he closed the door behind the man, and decided to sit for awhile, to process all that had happened. A younger Sherlock... would have different needs. What would that mean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to update again, I really can't keep to a schedule :/  
> Never mind, hope you enjoyed!


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a nightmare and John cuddles him to comfort him.

He heard a small shuffling sound before a red faced Sherlock appeared in the doorway. "I couldn't thleep properly." He waddled over to John wrapped up in his sheet and plonked down next to him on the sofa.  
John nodded, watching the boy, concerned, "Well, you can rest easy. Mycroft has the beaker, so it will only be a matter of time."

Sherlock nodded and sat there quietly, before whispering "I had a nightmare. About Moriarty. He... he hurt you and I couldn't do anything." His eyes welled up and he leant against John's arm.  
John was not expecting that. He automatically moved an arm around him, pulling him closer, "It was just a dream," He said kindly, "Just a bad dream, that's all. I'm here, in the flat, and I'm fine. Moriarty isn't anywhere near us. It was all just a dream... hush, don't cry." He grabbed a tissue and offered it to the boy gently, "Everything is fine. It really is."

Sherlock buried his head in John's chest and sniffed. "I know, it'th jutht that... he made me choothe how you died and I couldn't do anything!" He burst into tears and accepted the tissue, wiping his eyes.  
John rubbed his back sympathetically, "It isn't going to happen," He said firmly, "It was only just a dream, and it wasn't real. I know it was scary, but it was just a dream. I'm okay, and not dead, you really couldn't get rid of me if you tried." he hugged him tighter, though taken aback, "Moriarty didn't hurt me."

Sherlock nodded and tried to breathe deeper and calmer. " Yeah, ok. I know." He smiled weakly and looked up at John. "You really are my betht friend John. It would kill me if thomething happened to you."  
John smiled at that, unused to this blatant affection. Something about Sherlock looking so innocent, being so honest melted him. "You are mine as well, you know." he said warmly, "I wouldn't let anything happen to you either." He released Sherlock, helping him sit beside him properly.

" I heard you talk about our cat. I hope Mycroft'th mouth wath'nt too full of cake to talk." He sniggered, wiping his nose.  
"How'd you hear that?" John was surprised, "Luckily, it wasn't, though we both pitied the poor cat."  
Sherlock snorted. "I'm a child John, not Anderthon. Altho I'm not deaf."

"We weren't speaking that loud," John protested, "It appears you have fantastic hearing."  
He smiled widely. "My thenthes were keen ath a child tho they are now." He turned to face John and sat cross legged on the sofa. "Y'know, you haven't gone out with a woman for weekth John. You thould get out more." He joked, giggling.

"Oh joy," John muttered, but he was smiling along with him. He rolled his eyes, "I would," He returned, "But I've been spending my nights chasing after a certain someone, so I guess those women will just have to wait in line."  
Sherlock giggled again. "I think there'th thomeone elthe in the line ath well. There wath thith lady at a crime thene. I told her where to get off though." He laughed and leant against John, smiling happily.

"Hey, what do you know?" John shrugged; pretending to be nonchalant, glad Sherlock was in a better mood, "Women are dying to join that line. You owe them plenty of explanations, Sherlock, or we'll find an angry mob outside one night."  
Sherlock made a proper belly laugh noise and sighed. "Oh John, I bet there are thome men there too." He joked.

John shrugged, "You never know. That means more people to hold back though, when we barricade the doors and what not."  
Sherlock laughed. "It thoundth like thome kind of attack on uth though. Maybe we thould get popcorn and jutht watch them. Like the Hunger Gameth."   
"Watch them bash down the front door and hear Mrs Hudson yell at us," John joined in his laughter as well, "But I guess in the end we'll have to run from them." Sherlock sobered up and sighed, snuggling into John’s arm. “We thould do thith more often.” 

"Hmm?" John tilted his head, "Do what more often? Aggravate females? I don't know.." Sherlock snorted. "No you idiot. We thould talk more. Thtuff not about catheth, jutht you. It'th interethting." He replied. Surprise made itself clear on John's face, but he rolled his eyes. Sherlock hadn't changed much at all. 

"I guess, if you'd like.. But I can't agree that it's as interesting as you say." Rolling his eyes, he peered up and John and sat up straighter.  
"You can't be theriouth John, you're the motht interethting perthon I know." He smiled kindly and softly. John looked to him sharply, not quite believing the words, but his face relaxed into a smile, and he looked grateful. 

"Thank you. You are, too. You know. The most interesting person I ever met. So yes, we should have chats more often." Sherlock grinned and hugged John's arm. "Thank you. That'th good. I think thith thtuff'th made me nither." He joked. "Maybe I'm more human now." He smiled, his eyes sad. 

"Hey now," John said, looking at him, "I don't think.." He bites his lip, unsure how to say this, "I don't think you're nicer, per say, I like to think.. You're more open now. Honest." He watches Sherlock, their eyes meeting, "You have always been human. One of the most.. Human people I know." Sherlock sat there and gave John a huge hug. "I wath never very open to people I don't like. I gueth that maketh you thethial then. And I apprethiate the thentiment entirely." He snuggled against him and sighed happily. John returned his massive hug, pulling the boy closer. 

"Maybe it does." He smiled wryly, ruffling Sherlock's head of unruly curls, "I'm glad. It does make sense.. Not to be open to people you dislike. That's understandable." "Now, I'm going to stay here, so you get some sleep, I'll stay and chase away your nightmares, alright?" Sherlock nodded sleepily and leant against John's arm, wiggling to get comfortable. "Goodnight, John." He mumbled. 

"Goodnight, Sherlock." John says softly, "We'll get this solved soon." But part of him doesn't want this boy to go, looking down at him as he fell asleep. Such openness, such genuine kindness yet still so Sherlock. He stayed that way, for the rest of the night, supporting Sherlock, hoping he slept soundly, as he distractedly flipped through a book, unable to get into the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to pace the chapters so they aren't out every day, maybe every 3 days, but as I'm new to this I get too excited and just go for it. All the feedback is amazing, thank you!! :D I know all the lisps are hard to read, I'm sorry :/ Feel free to point out mistakes if you see any :)  
> Hope you enjoy!


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two boys have breakfast and a small incident occurs.

The night did past soundly, Sherlock slept sweetly through it. It was late in the morning when he stirred, as John tried tiredly to focus on a passage from the book, still letting him lean on him.  
"Morning. Sleep well?" Sherlock stretched out his legs, and nodded.  
"I haven't thlept like that in yearth." He mumbled, his voice thick after sleeping so solidly.  
"That’s good then," John smiled, helping to prop Sherlock against the sofa, "Sleep more, if you like, I'll make breakfast." he stood, stretching. Sherlock made a small whine in his throat at the sudden loss of warmth, but smiled at the mention of breakfast. He was quite hungry. He clambered off the sofa and walked into the kitchen. "Did you thleep much, John? I heard you reading a bit." He smiled, observing the slight bags under John's eyes.

John ruffled his curls, "Yeah, well, the book was kind of too good to put down," He smiled though, reassuring him, "Now what do you want for breakfast? Toast, or pancakes?"  
Sherlock grinned. "The Hobbit ith a good book though. Mycroft uthed to read it to me." He stared at the work surface and his smile faded. He blinked and shook his head, clearing his thoughts. "Ummm... pancaketh pleathe!"

"Yeah, it is." John stared at him for a moment, as if trying to work him out, before turning, grabbing the pancake mix and a pan, setting it on a stove, "Pancakes it is, then." He flipped the pancake, after it turned golden brown, reaching for some plates after and serving them. He pulled syrup out from the fridge as well, before setting it out before Sherlock, "Here, eat up."

Sherlock grinned up at John as the pancakes were put in front of him. "God I love pancaketh! Haven't had them in ageth! We'll have to make more another day." He walked to the drawer and pulled out two knives and two forks, before handing a set to John. He sat down in front of his own plate and dug in quickly.  
John grabbed them gratefully, tucking in as well, "Yeah, sure, I'll make more for you." He smiled at the young boy fondly, watching him eat with vigour. As an adult, Sherlock hardly ate with such enthusiasm. Why did that change?

John shrugged his thoughts away, drizzling more syrup as he ate more of his pancake. Sherlock smiled and nodded. "I think that'th atheptable." He giggled. He noticed John smiling at him and said with a full mouth "Thethe are good, John." John kept on looking at him like he was... well, a real child. He thought how much more open he'd be and had to agree he was acting differently. But he liked it. It made John smile. 

"Glad you like them," John looked away, grinning at that. Still, he let his grin fall from his face soon. Sherlock as a child was.. John couldn't quite put into words the rush of affection he felt for the little boy. He was a teensy bit grateful he even got a chance to experience this. "What about a drink? Juice?" he offered, dropping his knife and fork.

Sherlock observed when John’s face fell but said nothing about it. He did however like the sound of juice. "Have we got any cranberry and rathberry?" He said, spitting everywhere when he said raspberry. He wiped his face with his sleeve and giggled. 

"Sure, sure. Careful now, Sher." John reached over to grab a rag, wiping the juice off his face for him gently, before he corrected himself, "Sherlock." He turned, embarrassed that he had slipped into a nickname- well, Sherlock would absolutely hate that- and pulled out the juices from the fridge, grabbing two glasses and pouring them out.  
Sherlock froze at the nickname but decided it wasn't too bad. He rolled his eyes to let John know he didn't care about the slip up. He sat still as John wiped his face and stuck out his tongue, resulting in a mouthful of cloth. "Eugh!"

John chuckled, "Well it's your fault for trying to taste it." He pushed the glass of juice to him, "Here, it'll help you get rid of the taste." He continued eating his pancake, watching Sherlock.  
Sherlock grimaced and grabbed for the glass, chugging back the red liquid. He sighed happily and flopped back into the chair, turning his head to see John better. "I don't mind thith you know." He said, absently twisting the glass in his hands. " I thort of like it. No idiotth interrupting uth, it'th nithe."

"Peaceful," John nodded, catching eyes with him and munching, before swallowing, "I guess things are going to slow down for a while, until Mycroft gets that antidote done, so we're going to have plenty of this.. quiet." He shook his head, laughing softly, "You'll grow bored of it soon enough."

Sherlock giggled. "Mycroft should get off hith lathy arthe and hurry up." He put the glass down carefully. "All thith peath ith ghathtly! I gueth I thall but I'm happy with you." He smiled softly, picking up his empty plate and carrying it to the sink. However, he slipped on the dishcloth, his eyes widening as he prepared to bang his head on the worktop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saturday update, I can't tell you how nice the feedback is, so thank you :D  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys read The Hobbit and Anthea comes round.

John left his seat as soon as he saw the boy's feet slip, and he caught him by the arm deftly, righting him. "You alright?" he asked concernedly as he reached for the dishcloth, setting it aside and took over Sherlock's plate, placing in the sink for him.

Sherlock huffed and nodded. "That wath too clothe. Thank you." He waited until John had put down the plate before rushing into him to hug him. He gripped around John's waist and smelt his jumper, relaxing whilst burying his head in his chest.  
John was startled, before he patted Sherlock's head, his other hand resting lightly on his slight shoulders, "It's alright," He said carefully, "Everything is alright. You won't fall down when you're with me... I'll catch you." He chuckled, staying in that position for as long as Sherlock liked.

They stood there a minute before Sherlock surfaced for air. He looked up at John, keeping his arms locked around him. “I know.” He said softly, leaning into John's big hands. "You alwayth have." He smiled and let his hands drop to his sides, swinging a bit.  
John smiled, nodding. He missed the contact as soon as it was gone, but lowered himself to Sherlock's height, looking him in the eye. "Well," he says, "Breakfast is over and done with. What would you like to do now?"

Sherlock grinned widely and wandered excitedly around the room. "We could do exthperimentth or, or play pirateth or go bug Mycroft!" He giggled, before stopping, his eyes widening. "We could go thee the beeth John! The beeth in the park!" He jumped around and ran to his room. "Definitely John! I love beeth!" He called out.  
John followed after him, a smile finding its way to his face. The passion, the enthusiasm was still there, though for bees instead. He stood by the doorway of the room, watching. "Sure, sure. We'll go to the park," he agrees, "To see the bees. We'll have to get you something warmer to wear, though. It's chilly out."

Sherlock's eyes lit up and he nodded quickly before picking out his smallest shirt and trousers, but frowned when they were about 2 feet too long. He remembered John was shorter than his adult self, turned to face him and asked, "John, have you got any thmaller troutherth?"  
John doubted his clothes would fit Sherlock well, regardless of size difference when they were adults, but he said, "I'll go check..." He moved to his room, and picked out his smallest pair of gray trousers and one of the smaller jumpers. He returned with them, holding them out for the boy to try.

Sherlock eyed them doubtedly but took them. He pulled his shirt off and whipped on the jumper, smiling as it swamped him yet gave off heat like a radiator. He looked at John and giggled, "It'th a bit big, but it'll have to do." He put the trousers on and shuffled to the sock drawer, picking out the bright blue pair.

"We'll get you proper clothes, on the way back," John promised, reaching for him and helping him roll up the legs of his trousers and the sleeves of his jumper, "Hopefully, that helps..." He looked less like he was drowning in the clothes, more like they were ill fitting, as though passed down by some older brother. All together quite an adorable sight. John watched him put on his socks.

Sherlock barely stood still as John rolled up the trouser legs, sulking. "Proper child clotheth. I feel ridiculouth. I look ridiculouth! But, it doeth help tho thank you." He smiled appreciatively, before strolling out into the hall to put on his shoes. He stared down at them before rolling his eyes. "I will look like a clown for god thaketh! Can't we jutht call Mycroft?"

John nodded, raising his hands as if to surrender, "Okay, okay, I'll make the call." He fished out his phone, and dialled, leaning on the wall as he watched Sherlock.  
"Mycroft?"  
"Ah, good morning, Dr Watson. I presume you need something for him?" Mycroft said with a bored voice.  
"Um, yeah." John answered, "Clothes would be nice... Maybe some toys?" He looked to Sherlock, silently asking him if he wanted anything else.

"Of course, I think our mother kept some of his clothes, I'll have them delivered. Although toys, John, I'm afraid won't be possible. The only 'toys' that Sherlock had were books, his microscope and the most hideous plush bee, which he burnt..." As his voice wandered off, Sherlock broke in. "Actually, can he thend round my smaller violin? The Thtrad'th too big..." He said sadly.

John leaned over and patted his head comfortingly, "His violin, could you bring that?" He asked Mycroft, "That would be great, thanks." Really, what else did he expect... They could replace the plush bee though... Maybe. Unless it went up in flames again.  
Mycroft hummed and replied "That will be fine; it'll be there with the clothes in around fifteen minutes. I assume you're taking him outside?"  
"Yes, yes I am." John answered, "We're heading to the park.. Thanks."

Mycroft laughed and said “Sherlock’s favourite place growing up was the park. Constantly asking to see the bees... Well, good luck, and I shall see you in the future, Dr Watson. Goodbye."  
"Thanks see you, goodbye," John hung up, before turning to the child, "Just give him fifteen minutes, he's getting someone to bring it over, so just hang on, and then we'll leave."  
Sherlock nodded and sat down heavily on the sofa. "What do you want to do now? After we've theen the beeth, we can go where you want, it'th only fair.” He asked.

John moved to sit with him, "Hmm.. we could go see a movie?" He suggested, his mind running through the films that were out, "Oh, I heard the new Hobbit movie is quite good, do you want to go catch that?" He smiled, tilting his head.  
Sherlock swung his legs around onto the sofa, and sat cross legged facing John. He nodded vigorously and leant forwards. "You nearly finithed the book too! Tho we have time to finith it and then thee the movie! John, you're a geniuth!" He sprung off the sofa and grabbed the book John was reading earlier, bringing it back over to the warmth of the seat.

"Alright, we'll finish it before the movie." John chuckled shaking his head, taking the book from him. He honestly did not remember much of it, but he wasn't going to tell Sherlock that.  
Sherlock grinned and leant against John, getting comfortable so that both he and John could read it. Sherlock's eyes scanned the page as he remembered which part of the story it was.  
John read about how Bilbo faced off with Smaug, and tricked him with his many nicknames. He felt the warm weight of Sherlock against him, as he turned the page. The only sound was the rustling of paper, and their two breaths. Very peaceful. John was just reading how the dwarves and Bilbo were admiring the treasure, and Smaug had gone off to destroy the village of Laketown, when the door bell rang.

Sherlock giggled at the nicknames, recalling them from the previous times he'd read the book. The Barrel Rider especially. Both bodies jumped at the sound of the bell and John wriggled free from Sherlock and opened the door to 'Anthea'.  
"I have the clothes and one mini violin for a mini Sherlock." She smiled, looking around until she spotted him, her eyebrows rising in disbelief.  
"Thanks," John said, receiving the items from her in a bag, and setting them down. He pulled out a shirt and trousers, and proper shoes, too. And a coat, setting them before Sherlock to put on, also placing his violin case on the table. "Oh..." He laughed, following her gaze, "Didn't you know..?"

Anthea stuttered out "No, not really. I was told there had been a certain... incident." She looked at Sherlock taking the violin in his hands, admiring it and wiping off the accumulated dust.  
"Yeah, experiment gone wrong." John shook his head, "He'll be like this for awhile, until your boss gets the antidote done." He too, watched the boy, and wondered if he would play just now.

Anthea just nodded slowly, wondering whether she dared ask what the experiment actually was. Sherlock took the violin up and drew out a C sharp using the smaller bow, before smiling. "The'th thtill in tune. Also tell Mycroft to pleathe hurry up, I probably could have made an antidote quicker than he hath already." He winked and started playing God Save the Queen. Anthea rolled her eyes and nodded to John. "Goodbye, Dr Watson."

"He hasn't lost any of his charm," John joked, "Goodbye," He saw her to the door, before closing it after her, a few strained notes reaching his ears. He stopped at the hallway for a moment, smiling warmly, listening, before stepping into the living room, watching his younger flatmate draw the bow over the strings fluidly, again and again, his fingers smaller than before, but just as quick. He settled back on the sofa, picking up the book again.

Sherlock smirked at John watching him, before finishing the piece and bowing, setting the violin back on the table and joining John on the sofa. He wormed his way under John's arm and put his head on his lap, smiling up at him. "I can thee thraight up your nothe, John." He giggled happily before sighing and closing his eyes.

John clapped when he finished, dropping his book, and picking it up again, a small smile playing on his lips. He didn't mind when Sherlock rested his head on his lap, but pretended to chastise him for that comment. "Cheeky." He huffed, before leaning back, his hand absentmindedly drifting to the boy's head of curls as he read quietly, winding his hair around his fingers.  
Sherlock smiled and leant into the hand on his head, turning his head towards John's jumper and listening to him turning and reading the pages aloud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any of you seen the Hobbit? I highly recommend watching it!! Also another chapter :)  
> Enjoy!


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tickle fight and hobbit bees.

Sherlock imagined Bilbo and the dwarves, remembering that the actor who played Bilbo looked uncannily like John. "You look like a Hobbit." Sherlock announced when they'd finished the book.

John set the book aside, after the last page, having enjoyed the story. He was somewhat sad that Thorin, and his two nephews had died, "Hmm?" He turned his face to Sherlock, uncomprehendingly, "I don't..?"

Sherlock smirked. "Have you theen the firtht film, John? The only thing mithing ith the hairy feet and the curly hair. And the One Ring, I thuppothe." He shifted to see John's face again and saw the filthy look on his face. Sherlock giggled and poked John in the stomach. "It'th true!"

John let out a short burst of laughter as Sherlock poked him, squirming a little, "But I don't have hairy feet and curly hair," he protested, "I am like a hobbit only in height, maybe. But guess who's shorter than me now?" He teased, "Finally."

Sherlock giggled, before gasping in mock horror. "You know full well I can't help being thort right now! And anyway, I have the curly hair for it. Normally I'd be the Gandalf to your Bilbo. Actually, no, I'm not going grey like you yet!" He laughed, clutching his sides.

"Oi!" John protested indignantly, moving his hands, starting to tickle the young boy relentlessly, "You little evil hobbit..."   
Sherlock squirmed and laughed, trying to escape the torturous hands of John Watson. "Not... a hobbit!" He wheezed out between hysterical giggles. He managed to break free and ran for the shelter his room, grabbing the old clothes, but his shorter legs meant he wasn't as fast as usual.

John raced after him, catching him easily and swinging him upwards, holding him, as Sherlock struggled, careful not to drop him, "My dear, naughty hobbit," John scolded playfully, "Going on an adventure, are you?" 

Sherlock giggled and stuck out his tongue. "Yeth, oh powerful Thmaug!" He flattened John's nose and snorted. "Put me down, Jawn! We need to get drethed tho we can thee beeth and hobbitth!" His eyes widened and he whispered, "Do you think there are hobbit beeth? How cute would they be!" He grinned.

John set him down his feet, huffing through his nose, "I'll breathe fire on you, then you'll see," He warned the boy with mock seriousness. He didn't have the heart to tell him no, so he nodded, "Yes.." He never heard the word cute uttered from his flatmate in his life, and it took him by surprise, "Most definitely. Hobbit bees. Tiny."

Sherlock giggled and blew back in John's face. His eyes widened and he smiled in awe. "Do you think we could create them? Try croth breeding a bee and the thmallest wasp in the world? It hath no thting! I hate wathpth, bees are far more interethting." He pulled the jumper off and put on the new better fitting shirt, buttoning it up.

John reached for the jumper, wanting to pull it away, seeing the boy had no use for it, "We could try... Yes, wasps are intimidating." John grinned, "Please don't release wasps in the flat," He didn't want to get stung. 

Sherlock handed the jumper to John, before resuming doing up the buttons of his shirt. He screwed up is face and shook his head. "I wouldn't do that, wathpth aren't what I'd call nithe creatureth." He made sure John was folding his jumper when he pulled down his pants and quickly exchanged them for new clean ones.

John was sure to look away, giving the child his modesty. Honestly, wasn't anything he hadn't seen before- Sherlock often lazed around the flat in a sheet- but he respected the younger version's wishes, "Yeah, so be careful with them when you experiment," he called out, as he disappeared back into his room to return his jumper and trousers to his drawers.

"Of courthe." Sherlock nodded thankfully as John left the room, pulling on his trousers and smoothing down the creases, before wandering back out into the living room to put his shoes on. When John reappeared, he was ready to go. He waited patiently for him to go ready.

John slipped on his own shoes, before opening the door and holding it out for Sherlock, "Come on then," he said kindly, "Let's go see the bees."  
Sherlock's grin widened as he leapt out the door and flew down the stairs, off on an adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smaller, fluffier chapter today :) Over 1000 hits holy smokes!!!!!  
> Thank you all, enjoy!


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tree climbing, ice cream and more hobbitness.

He opened the front door and walked straight up to the edge of the pavement, before calling "Tacthi!"

John ran after him, not expecting him to be so eager, slamming the doors behind him. He pulled Sherlock away from the edge, now mindful of his safety, and raised a hand instead, sighing in relief as a taxi drew up. 

Sherlock frowned when the taxi only appeared when John did, but remembered he was a child now. He felt John's hand on his shoulder and leant back into him, before climbing into the back of the cab.  
John entered, giving an address, as he leaned back in his seat, watching the scenery go by, and occasionally glancing at Sherlock.

Sherlock fidgeted around in his seat, staring out the window and seeing how fast he was at deducing people on the move. So far he'd counted 6 businessmen, 2 lawyers and 1 teacher who'd just had a divorce but was regretting her decision. He grew bored of it and looked at John who was in his own world as he watched the world outside.

John looked over at him, and their eyes met. He grinned sheepishly, and turned back to the window, humming softly under his breath, a little embarrassed at being caught. But Sherlock stared at him intensely most of the time anyway. 

Sherlock grinned back, and noticed as John's cheeks became a little pinker. He hid his amusement and looked out the window until they came to their destination. He watched as John paid the cabbie and climbed out of his seat, shutting the door.

John left after he paid, as well, shutting the door behind him. He followed Sherlock to the park, assuming he'd lead him to where the bees were. Sherlock ran off to a huge oak tree with multiple branches coming off it quite low down, yet he was still too short to reach the lowest. He looked over at John expectantly and tilted his head towards the tree.   
"I think I need thome help so get to the hive." 

"Be careful," John warned, wrapping his arms around the boy's waist and hoisting him up, depositing him on the lowest branch. He watched anxiously as the boy climbed it nimbly, ready to catch him if he should fall.

Sherlock reached up and grabbed the thick branch, pulling himself up. He saw the hive and grinned down at John. "It'th a really big one! I found it a month ago on the jogger cathe." He stood up carefully and walked slowly to the hive, before dipping his finger in some honey.

"Okay..." John watched him apprehensively, praying he didn't fall. He didn't like Sherlock in high places quite yet, and wasn't all too comfortable with the idea of him falling... He snapped his attention back to Sherlock, aware people were glancing their way curiously.

Sherlock admired the hive and honey, tasting the sample on his finger. He glanced down at John and the accumulating crowd and tried not to laugh. "John, I'm not thtupid enough to... aaaah!" He pretended to wobble on the branch and heard the collective gasp and screech from John, "Sherlock!" He leant against the trunk of the tree and burst out laughing. "Oh, John! I had you!" He creased up laughing and began his descend back to solid ground.

John stood, his arms crossed, around him various people, all murmuring about how he was a bad parent, a bad uncle, a bad whatever, for letting his child get into such a precarious situation. The look on his face was not pleased at all, but he still watched Sherlock until his feet touched the ground safely. 

Sherlock looked sheepishly at him, giving him an innocent smile. "I wathn't going to fall, John. Anyway, you thould really try that honey, it'th thuper!" He bounced back over to John.  
John looked down on him, keeping his serious front up for a while longer before sighing and nodding, "Don't do that again," he warned, "It's not funny, Sherlock." He shook his head, allowing himself to smile, reminding himself of his flatmate's current situation. 

"I can't exactly climb up there and try it; I'll take your word for it."  
Sherlock looked at the ground and shuffled his feet. "Thorry, John. I gueth it wath uncalled for..." He looked into John's eyes and said "You can trutht me though, I won't fall. Promithe. I'll get you thome!" He reached for the branch again.

"Okay," John agreed quietly, "I was overreacting, though you really scared me to pieces.” John caught his arm gently, but firmly, "It's okay, I think that's enough climbing for today, Sherlock." I forgive you, he said silently, "I can imagine it tastes really sweet," he licked his lips, trying to make the boy laugh.

Sherlock turned around and walked back. He nodded and smiled, "Yeth, it'th really good! But it'th safer down here, I underthtand." He grabbed John's hand and walked with him, leaning softly into him, subtly saying sorry again.

John squeezed his hand, letting him know his apology was accepted, letting him lean as he led him away from the crowd, which was thinning out. "Anything else you'd like to see at the park?" he asked, smiling down at him.

Sherlock thought and smiled. "We could get thome ithe cream. There'th that plathe around the corner." He sighed happily and put his head on John's arm as he walked.

"Sure," John agreed readily, walking over to the ice cream shop Sherlock had directed, keeping him close. "What flavour would you like today?" He asked, as they neared the place.

Sherlock scanned the board and announced "Mint chocolate pleathe!" He looked at John and asked "You? I can pay; you've paid for everything elthe."

"Cookies and cream looks good..." John squinted at the board, making his choice, "Nah," He ruffled the young boy's hair, shaking his head, "It’s fine, my treat. Besides, you haven't got your wallet with you." He stepped forward, pulling him along to make the order.

"Good choithe!" Sherlock patted his pocket with his free hand and rolled his eyes. "Of courthe, I'm thuch an idiot."

John released his hand, to take the cones from the server, handing one to Sherlock, "It's alright, you just forgot. Here, chocolate Mint, as promised."

Sherlock took the cone and immediately licked the ice cream, his facing changing into one of pure happiness. He hummed a reply and walked over to a bench, sitting down on it. "We can thtill go thee the Hobbit, it'th in about twenty minuteth, we have loadth of time."

John followed him, plopping down on the bench, his features softening a little as he watches Sherlock enjoy his ice cream. "Yes, you little hobbit," He bit into his ice cream, "I haven't been to see a movie in ages... And this is the one where Smaug finally appears, yes?" 

Sherlock nodded excitedly, turning to face John. "I thaw the firtht one, and it was amathing! John, hith eye is huge! And, and the trailer is awethome! It'th going to be amathing!" He leant back and had a lick of his ice cream.

"I haven't seen the first one, or the trailer, hopefully I'll still be able to catch on." John ate up his ice cream, nodding. He was glad Sherlock was so excited. Now he was a child, he seemed so much more... easily excited, about things that were not just crimes. 

Sherlock tilted his head, replying "You thould be able to, I mean we've read the book tho it thould be fine." He paused for a second and sneezed. "The trailer'th only thort, you could probably get it on your phone."

"Are you cold?" John was distracted by the sneeze, balancing his ice cream in his hand as he shrugged off his coat, pulling it over Sherlock automatically, "Yes, I think I will be able to," He fished out his phone and searched it up, "Do you want to watch it together?" he offered, leaning over and holding the screen between the two of them.

Sherlock shook his head and wiped his nose. "No, I'm fine, thankth. Jutht dutht. Yes pleathe." He scooted over a bit to see the screen clearer, hushing John when the video loaded.  
John pressed play and they watched it together. John had to admit, it was impressive, and he felt more excited for the movie. There was one thing he pointed out, though. "Smaug sounds like you... an older you," he laughed.

Sherlock grinned. "Ithn't it good?! I know, when Mitheth Hudthon'th nephew came round, I read it to him, he wath bored, I wath bored. Anyway, he thaid I thounded like Thmaug and it made me laugh. Imagine me with wingth! No longer needing tacthi'th!"

"Yes, and of course, that's the only thing you would need wings for," John laughed, rolling his eyes, "Avoiding flagging taxis. What about me, then? I'd still need taxis. You would be sitting on piles and piles of gold, and sleeping," he chuckled, "You do sound like Smaug though, and now you look like a Hobbit," he teased, "You could have played all the parts."

Sherlock giggled. "I'm an all round actor. Anyway, if I wath a real dragon, you could jutht thit on me, tho you wouldn't have to be in a tacthi all the time, you could fly too! And thleeping ith boring, gold ith too thparkly, that'th more Mycroft'th thing." He snorted and bit the cone of his ice cream.

"Thanks for the offer, though I'd probably fall off. Or get lost, in your piles of gold, if I lived with you then." John joked, finishing his own ice cream, "You'd be terrorising everyone instead, I bet... I thought cake was Mycroft's thing."

Sherlock laughed. “No John, I'd never lothe you, you're like the Arkenthtone." He giggled. "Do you think I could thcare Anderthon and Donovan? Mycroft could hoard both if he tho dethired, but probably the cake, yeth." He finished his ice cream and shoved the napkin in the bin after wiping his face and removing the mess he'd made.

"But the arkenstone got stolen, in the end." John joked, feigning a sad expression, "Yeah, I reckon you could. Mycroft already has plenty of gold already, I think, his heart belongs more to cake." he followed suit, standing, "Come on, let's go catch the film." 

Sherlock giggled and rolled his eyes, poking John's arm as he stood up. "No, I mean you're prethiouth to me, and I thould look out for you." His eyes softened and he took John's hand again. "Let'th go!" He pulled John excitedly in the direction of the cinema.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be able to post on Sunday because I'm going to my grandparent's where they have no internet *the horror*, so I'll make the one on Monday longer :)  
> Enjoy!


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They see the Hobbit, have lunch and then Mrs Hudson sees the now young Sherlock.

John was moved by his words, and startled, so he let himself be dragged without protest, until they arrived. He was huffing, bested by Sherlock's seemingly boundless energy. He squeezed his hand, as he faced the counter and bought tickets, "Do you think you can fit popcorn in that stomach of yours?" he asks teasingly.

Sherlock's eyes widened and he grinned. "There'th alwayth room for popcorn, John. Alwayth!" He giggled and asked him "Do you want thweet or thalty? I'll get them while you're paying." John handed him a fiver and he fiddled with it.

"Sweet, please." He told the child, patting his head as he went, and handed over money for the movie screening, collecting the two tickets before going off to find Sherlock, clutching a bowl of caramel covered popcorn. "Come on, to the theatre," he said, hand on the small of his back as he steered him to theatre five, and seated them.

Sherlock sat down, buzzing with excitement and handed John the bowl of popcorn. He grinned and whispered as the adverts started “I can’t wait to thee Thmaug, he’d better have a good voithe! It has to be really deep or a really nice voice to listen to. Morgan Freeman would be good.” 

"Mmm, maybe. But Morgan Freeman always sounded so gentlemanly," John shrugged, picking a few pieces before passing it over to Sherlock, "Anyway, we heard a bit of his voice in the trailer, didn't we? I thought it was impressive." he turned his eyes on the screen, watching intently. Sherlock hummed in agreement and grabbed a handful of the sweet treat. He turned to the screen and grinned as the film began.

John watched the film intently, staying quiet except for when he laughed, and gasped. He was impressed by the dragon, whose deep voice sent shivers down his spine. When the lights came on after, he had a smile on his face, having thoroughly enjoyed the movie.

Sherlock turned around to John slowly with his mouth open slightly. "That. Wath, AMATHING! Now we jutht have to wait a whole year until the latht part!" He discarded the empty popcorn bowl and listened to the song playing in the credits. "Ith thith Ed Theeran?" He asked, tilting his head. 

"Yeah... I can't wait," John found himself laughing at the child's enthusiasm. "Too bad we know how it ends..." He tilted his head, listening too, but gave up, because he knew little about music, "Who?" 

Sherlock nodded sadly, before perking up as he informed John, "Ed Theeran. He did thongth like Give me love and the A team. He'th a good muthithian, actually." He shuffled to his feet and stretched his legs. 

"Oh... Okay." John nodded, as though he understood. He didn't know Sherlock listened to music other than Bach or Mozart. "I will go check him out. Do your legs ache?" He watched the young boy, "I could carry you if you want." He offered, rising himself. 

Sherlock smiled and nodded. "A little, yeth pleathe." He smirked in the dark as he imagined John carrying him bridal style, and stifled a snort. John swung him up easily, carrying him with one strong arm around his waist, holding Sherlock against his hip, "What's so funny?" He asked curiously, as he walked out of the theatre. 

Sherlock giggled and leaned into John's shoulder. "Nothing, just a mental image." He giggled again and sighed happily, clutching to John's jumper. 

"You're a strange one." John thought, shaking his head fondly. He left the theatre, as soon as he was outside he asked Sherlock, "So what now, then?" 

Sherlock screwed up his face in thought. “Hmmm, we could jutht go home if you want. Watch some of your programmeth.” 

John looked surprised, "You don't like my programmes," he pointed out, chucking, but was already flagging down a cab to head back. 

Sherlock shrugged. "I could bear with them for a couple of hourth. That Jeremy Kyle one ith tho awful it'th funny." He climbed into the cab. 

John got in after him, quickly giving the address, "Well, it passes time." He settled back into the seat, "As long as you don't start deducing out loud." 

Sherlock rolled his eyes but nodded reluctantly. "Fine, but can I deduthe the people outthide?" 

John pretended to consider it, pursing his lips, "Fine, if it'll keep you from dying of boredom, yes." 

Sherlock grinned and put on his seatbelt, shuffling to face the window. As they started to drive off, Sherlock picked a lady in a green coat and started to deduce. "The'th unattached, but looking for a boyfriend, on her way to meet a date judging by her hair and clotheth." 

"Mmm." John glanced at her also, taking in her attire and hair, "Best of luck to her... That was good." He praised, smiling slightly as he watched her walk off. 

Sherlock smiled smugly at the praise and nodded, moving on to a businessman who'd recently been promoted, followed by a young girl who'd lost her dummy and was crying profusely. They soon arrived at Baker Street and Sherlock clambered out the cab.

John paid the cab and headed out after him, fishing out a key to open the door and ushering him in, and closing the door. He shrugged off his own coat and let Sherlock run up the stairs, before climbing after him and switching on the telly. 

Sherlock whipped off his coat and draped it over the back of the sofa, before sitting down with a tired sigh. "Today wath fun, we're definitely theeing the netht one." 

"Yeah, next year." John agreed. By then, Sherlock wouldn't be a child anymore- if Mycroft could actually get things done, that was. But Adult Sherlock would want to go with him as well, wouldn't he? Or would he forget about it by then? John resolved not to bother with such worries, instead settling back on the sofa, watching the programme that had come on. 

Sherlock leant into John and got comfortable, closing his eyes and tried to sleep for a bit. He felt John chuckle at the programme and smiled softly.

John noticed, though he did not make a big deal out of it, one of his arms wrapping around Sherlock's small shoulders, taking his weight and letting him sleep. He also discreetly lowered the volume, keeping his eyes on the screen. 

Sherlock thanked John by patting his arm, and curled up into a ball with his head in John's lap. His eyes grew heavy as he tried to keep watching the programme, but finally gave in to sleep.

As John watched, he idly carded his hand through Sherlock's curls. Programme after programme, he let the young boy sleep, until he looked over, realizing it was quite late and he'd best be preparing lunch. He gently tried to lift Sherlock without waking him so he could start to cook.

Sherlock stirred and looked towards John sleepily. He yawned and stretched, squinting at the clock on his desk. He looked back to John in the kitchen, whistling quietly. Sherlock smiled and lay back down on the sofa, grabbing a pillow and shoving it over his face.

John set the dishes on the table, before going over to Where Sherlock was. He slowly removed the pillow, waking the young boy gently, "Sherlock, lunch." He called softly, rousing him. 

Sherlock grumbled sleepily and frowned at John. "What time ith it?" He croaked. He looked over at the food and smiled at the smell.

"Quarter to one," John told him, smiling at his reaction, "Now get up, the food's gonna get cold, you can sleep later if you want.”

Sherlock moaned but sat up slowly, his head spinning. He raked his hand through his flat sofa-hair and focused on the plates filled with food. He waddled over lazily and sat down heavily on the stool.

John followed after him, sitting down on his own stool, reaching over and ruffling his hair, messing it up ever more than before, "Eat up, sleepyhead. I cooked your favourite." He leaned his chin on his hand as he watched Sherlock tuck in. 

Sherlock leant into the ruffling hand and cut up his food, shoving in a huge mouthful. He giggled as he though John looked like a chipmunk and puffed out his own cheeks.  
John moved his hand down, patting his inflated cheeks before pulling away, taking up his own food. "Is it good?" He asked, as companionable silence fell around them. 

Sherlock nodded vigorously, and pointed as John's plate. "Yourth?"

"It’s alright..." John wasn't paying much attention to his own food; he was getting much more amusement out of watching Sherlock eat. 

Sherlock paused his manic eating and saw John watching him. He slowed down, feeling self conscious. "It'th good though. Thank you."

"You're welcome." John glanced away too, uncomfortable that he'd been caught, but his lips curved into a smile. He was glad Sherlock so appreciated the food he had made, something about his younger face looking back at him, with such earnest thankfulness won made a smile come to his face almost automatically. "Are you tired enough to go back to sleep after lunch?" He asked conversationally, "Or is there anything you'd like to do?" 

Sherlock thought and smiled back. "I don't mind, I'm not too tired anymore. I do have thome exthperimentth, but I don't want them to get on your jumper. It'th thulphuric athid, tho not too thtrong." He put the fork down as he finished his plateful.

"Still," John knew it would be terribly irresponsible if he let Sherlock experiment with acid at his age, his conscience could not let it slide. “I'll be your lab assistant for the day." He smiled, reaching for the plates and dumping them in the sink, "If it worries you, I'll take off my jumper. Or wear an apron, whatever you like." 

Sherlock grinned. “Well ath far ath I know, we don’t own an apron, but Mrth Hudthon doeth. I’ll athk her, thee won’t be able to thay no to me right now.” He put on an innocent face.

John scoffed at him, "Oh god... She doesn't know, does she? She's going to have a heart attack..." He stood, running his hands through his hair, "Come on then, do you want to go ask her? Or else I swear I'm stealing one of your dressing gowns." 

Sherlock gasped. “You are not thtealing my drething gown! That ith thilk! Anyway, thee won’t have a heart attack, thee thurvived my return when I... dithappeared.” He trailed off.

"It's already worn," John protested, before turning, pretending to be preoccupied with submerging the dirty dishes in water. "We all did." He paused, before turning back, wiping his hands. "Come on then, let's go ask." 

Sherlock made a noise of agreement and jumped down from his stool. He walked down the stairs slowly, and waited for John to stand in front of him. “Betht not to jutht appear, I thuppothe. You go firtht.”

"Okay, just stay close." John told him, before rapping his knuckles against the shut door, "Mrs Hudson?" He calls, "Are you in?" 

There was a minute of rustling before a flustered Mrs Hudson appeared at the door. “Hello, love! How are you? Is Sherlock being a pain again?” A small noise of annoyance left Sherlock and Mrs Hudson frowned. “I’m sorry, was that you?”

"Hello," John greeted her cheerfully, "I'm fine thanks. No, no more than usual. Are you busy?" He shrugged before he stepped aside, revealing younger Sherlock. "That was him." 

Mrs Hudson shook her head. “Come in...” She looked down at the younger Sherlock and her mouth fell open. “Sherlock! What on earth have you down now?!” She looked back up at John and then down to Sherlock again, not quite believing it. She tried to relax and bent down a bit to hug him. “You clot! When did this happen?” She looked at John over the mound of black curls.

"Yesterday, he spilled something over himself," John supplied, slipping into the flat, "They're working on an antidote to bring him back to adult size, but till then, he's staying a child... You don't have an apron we can borrow, do you?" 

She shook her head in disbelief at the stupidity of such a smart man. She let go of Sherlock and ruffled his hair. "Well tell your brother to hurry up. Do you want my experiment apron, Sherlock?"

"That would be great, Mrs Hudson." John smiled warmly at her, "I'm going to be the new lab assistant, because I'd really prefer my counter without a hole burned through it," he joked cheerfully. 

Sherlock scowled, smoothing down his hair. “The athid ithn’t nearly thtrong enough, John." He walked into her kitchen and grabbed a mangled and holey apron covered in several splatters of various chemicals, before waving it at John. “Thith ith it. Thank you, Mrth Hudthon.”

John looked dubiously at the thing, "Fine, however diluted it is I'd rather not have to treat you for burns... Thank you Mrs H... I think..."

Sherlock squeezed in between John and Mrs Hudson as she spoke. “It’s alright, you two. Any more problems or anything and just ask, or in your case,” she looked at Sherlock, “yell down the stairs.”  
Sherlock walked out into the hall, dragging John by the arm. “Yeth, Martha. Goodbye.” He waved, smiled, and bounded back up the stairs to their flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly longer because I missed yesterday's update, but here you go!  
> Hope you enjoyed :)


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An experiment, tickle fight (I'm a sucker for fluff) and the boys decide to go swimming.

"Slow down!" John laughed as he was yanked up the stairs by Sherlock, "Bye Mrs Hudson," He waved with his free arm, "Hey, how come you can remember her first name and not Greg's?" He asked when they finally reached their living, putting on the apron gingerly and biting his lip.

Sherlock shrugged. “Thimple. I thee her every day, but not Lethtrade. Anyway, it’th Gregory, I can’t stand abbreviated nameth. It thoundth wrong.” He turned around and walked into his room, swinging on the doorframe and facing John. “I’m going to put old thtuff on; I’m not thpilling anything on me today!”

"But he likes Greg," John told him, before nodding, "Right, that's a good plan. If only you could apply that principle every day." 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Whatever. When I'm... when I was taller I had thteadier hands, tho I'm more likely to thpill thtuff now, I'm the wrong height. It'th tediouth." He huffed and went to look in his overcrowded wardrobe. He picked out a small pair of skinny jeans and a black t shirt: he might as well wear then now if he was going to burn them later. He scrambled into them and re-emerged.

"Well, that's the whole point of me being your assistant, isn't it?" John had his arms crossed over his gaudy apron but he was smiling. He went over to the counter, "Well, what first?" He asked, leaning his elbows on the counter. He pulled up a stool for Sherlock to sit or stand on, should he feel the need to. 

Sherlock nodded. "I know, it'th jutht fruthtrating. Um, firtht put the thulphuric athid in the test tube; add three dropth of the yellow liquid, then put a bung on the top and thake for a minute." He knelt on the stool and pointed at the various needed chemicals.

John did as he said, and he did rather well, he thought. He poured the acid steadily in the tube, adding the three drops with a dropper and putting the bung on top securely before shaking it. "What's this supposed to do?" he asked curiously, "Am I supposed to take this off?" He shook with all his might before making to remove the bung. 

Sherlock shook his head. "We wait for a few minuteth before taking it off. It wath thuppothed to be for the cathe, but ath I can't go to the crime thene without being mocked by Donovan, I have to thtay here. Onthe we've added thith, "He held up a black liquid, "It thould thow uth how the father poithoned the daughter." He grinned.

"We could do the lap top thing again," John suggested, though he wasn’t too comfortable with the idea of leaving Sherlock alone, or with Mrs Hudson, continuing to shake the test tube before holding it out for Sherlock. "Okay, can we add it now?" 

Sherlock nodded and smiled. "That'th quite a good idea, John. Although I'd thtill prefer to be normal again." Sherlock took the tube from John, pulled off the bung and sniffed. "Yup, that'th ready." He said, popping the p with his lips. He carefully picked up a beaker full of a black mess, before using a spatula to scoop up a tiny bit, and put it in the tube. "Now, we need to heat it under the bunthen burner for five minuteth." 

"Soon," John reminded him, before wrinkling his nose, "Should you really be smelling that?" He nodded, turning on the gas on the Bunsen burner before using a lighter to light the fire, grabbing a pair of thongs to hold the test tube up by. "And what are we expecting to see?" He asked, as he waved the test tube gently over the flame. "Not an explosion, I hope?" 

Sherlock climbed off the stool and grabbed the safety glasses. "It'th not tocthic, if that'th what you're wondering. It'th perfectly thafe in thith thtate." He stared at the flame, feeling the heat on his face. "It thould turn brown, no ecthplothionth, no. That'th a hard word to thay." He giggled. 

"Course it is," John pretended to nod sympathetically, hiding his smile at Sherlock's lisp, "Okay... I think that's brown?" he held the test tube away from the flame for Sherlock to inspect, "Brown?" He asked, almost teasingly. 

Sherlock stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry. "Jutht becauthe you can thay the letter eth." He inspected the tube and nodded affirmatively, but frowned. "It thould be browner. Maybe I calculated it wrong..." He glanced at his notes and found the long equation of various letters and number. "Nope, it ith right. He mutht have had a thtronger conthentrate of oil..." He looked up at John and half smiled. "You can put it down in the rack now, John."

"Sssss." John teased him playfully, releasing the test tube down on the rack and setting down the tongs, propping his elbow on the table again. "So what now? More experiments, or texting Lestrade to unmask the killer?"

Sherlock scowled. "John, you are an arthe." He sighed and sat down on the stool. "I don't know. Anything you want to do in particular?"

"Tsch, don't swear. You're too young to swear." John chided him, enjoying every moment of this as he conked him lightly on the head, "Not really, no. Why don't you think of something? I mean it's not very often you get to be child again, do something you did in your childhood?" He suggested. 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, sulking. "Not too young." He said, crossing his arms moodily, plotting his revenge. He thought about things in his childhood and had an idea. He walked over to John, and launched himself at his stomach. "Tickle fight!" He laughed, his arms flailing in all directions.

"Too young!" John sang, "You look, what, five? Five year olds can't swear." He was surprised by the tickle attack, falling back onto the ground but laughing, his head thrown back, trying to catch Sherlock's hands while his shoulders shook with laughter. "S-Sherlock! Stop it!" He gasped, doubling over, still laughing uproariously. 

"Five?!" Sherlock screeched, tickling and giggling harder. "Never, not until you take it back!" He fell over with John and landed on him with an “Oof!” He continued his attack and sat on his legs, pinning him down." Thurrender, or die!"

John was howling with laughter but he still gasped out, "It's surrender, Sher." Before he continued laughing, hands trying to bat Sherlock away, and remove his hands and at the same time trying to roll away. Too bad his legs were trapped. "Aghhhh. You little monster... Stop! Stoppppp!" John writhed, trying to escape, "No!" 

Sherlock laughed manically, "I have you under my control! I thall theathe, if you do one thing!" He put his hands on John's wrists, so he looked like a starfish. 

"Oh yeah?" John pretended to glare at him, speaking breathlessly. He didn't struggle, for if he did he could easily overpower the young boy, but for his sake, he pretended, "What's that?" 

Sherlock grinned gleefully and sat upright. "You have to thing Danthing Queen out of the window really loudly, and I'm going to record it." He giggled and rolled off of him. "Or I could put it on YouTube: The viral video of the danthing doctor." He snorted.

"What? What? No." John tried to squirm away, giggling, "I don't even know the lyrics to dancing queen! No, I'm not doing it!" He stood, and tried to make a run of it. 

Sherlock puffed out his lower lip and put on his puppy dog eyes. "But everyone knowth it! Even me, John! And I’m thoooo bored!" He ran after John trying to catch up with his but falling over the chair. "Hmph!"

John hastily avoided his eyes, "I don't know it, how am I supposed to know it!" When he noticed he fell over, he stopped, retracing his steps and helping him up. "Are you alright?" He asked. 

Sherlock nodded and rubbed his knees once he was upright. His voice softened as he asked "John, do you really not know it? It'th fine anyway, I wath kidding." He smiled lopsidedly.

John kneeled down before him, inspecting his knees, "They'll be red for awhile, but you should be fine." He grinned sheepishly, "I don't know it that well.. Still not going to do it." He tried to cheer him up by sticking his tongue out at him, "You little tickle monster." 

Sherlock grinned, and hugged John. "Thankth, Doctor." He pulled back and paused. "We thould go thwimming!"

"At the pool?" John wondered, hugging him back, he hadn't gone swimming in ages. "Sure, it's a hot day out anyway. Do you have swimwear?"

Sherlock jumped in excitement and nodded. "Yeah, I'll go get the trunkth! Have we got goggleth?" Secretly, he just wanted a chance to see John's scar, and this seemed the perfect chance.

"I think we do..." John scratched the back of his head, unaware of Sherlock's intentions, "I'll go find them...Go get the trunks." He turned and went to rummage through a closet in his room for goggles. He assumed this meant Sherlock know how to swim, and wouldn't need one of those floaty things. 

Sherlock dug around in his wardrobe and found the smallest pair of trunks he would fit in. I haven't gone swimming in ages, he thought. He grabbed a towel and hurried out to the lounge.

John surfaced with two goggles triumphantly in his hand, and retrieved a pair of trunks. He moved out the lounge, trunks and towel slung across his shoulder. "Ready?" Sherlock pulled on his shoes and nodded. "Ready!" He grabbed a satchel bag and stuffed it in, holding his hand out for John's. 

John passed him his things, "So which pool do you want to head to?" He wasn’t very clear about the pools around the area, and to be honest the only one he knew is the one where they met Moriarty. He hoped they didn't go there. 

“The one near Bakerloo. It ith’nt too far from here. And they have thlideth.” Sherlock added gleefully, opening the door. He stopped and looked at John curiously. “We wouldn’t go to that pool, John. Neither of uth wants a repeat of that.” He said quietly.

Of course Sherlock could practically read his mind. "Certainly not at your new size, anyway." John ruffled his hair with his palm, taking the bag from him, "Ah, slides. Alright," he stepped out the door, "The pool at Bakerloo it is." 

Sherlock grinned, enjoying his hair being ruffled. He bounded down the stairs and yelled "We're going thwimming Mrth Hudthon! Might need some bithcuitth later!" He looked at John and giggled quietly, awaiting her response.

"Okay, but just this once!" Came the reply, "I really am not your housekeeper, you know!" 

John grinned, "Thanks," he hollered back, following Sherlock down the stairs and holding the front door open for him. 

Sherlock smiled thankfully and walked out into Baker Street. He called for a cab, and waited for John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SMOKES 2000 HITS?! THANK YOU :D  
> I'm half way through the chapters we've written already, so might have to slow it down to every Saturday, I'm sorry :( we live in separate time zones so writing is awkward, but we'll try and write has often as possible :)  
> Hope you enjoyed :)


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANGSTY. Mycroft is needed and Sherlock starts to change. Deduction game like from The Empty Hearse.

John followed after him, getting in the cab, giving the address.

Sherlock sat back and sighed. "I forgot a thwimming cap. Never mind, just ecthuthe the afro when I get out the pool." He wrinkled up his face in mock horror. "I'll look like an emo clown."

"An emo clown," John reached over fluffed up his curls playfully, "I'm sure it's a very good look on you. You have to let me take pictures then!"

“Urgh! But if you thow anyone I will burn them and your jumperth will be the kindle.” He scowled, but smiled. “Actually I like the jumperth too much.” The cab driver raised his eyebrows and smirked. Sherlock saw his face and rolled his eyes.

"Good, don't burn them." John huffed wrapping his arms around himself as though afraid Sherlock would tear it off him and start said fire, oblivious to the cab driver's looks, "I'll probably just show... Mrs Hudson?" He teased, "And maybe a few more...Sherlock with an Afro. Picture of a lifetime!"

Sherlock's scowl slowly turned into low giggles, closer to his baritone laugh. He frowned at John, "That sounded like my old laugh! John, I could be changing back!"

"You could!" John looked stunned, before he smiled, "Maybe we won't need Mycroft after all... Imagine if you just change in the pool!"

Sherlock giggled lowly again before groaning like a teenager. "How embarrassing would that be? Seriously. Wait, my lisps gone!" He cheered, his voice considerably lower than before.

"Please do not stop growing midway and become an adolescent. I'm not dealing with sulky teenage Sherlock," John joked. "What exactly is happening to you?"

Sherlock smirked and shrugged. "It wasn't that bad, John. I don't know. I think I'm just returning to normal, but different parts are coming back at different times..." He looked at his hands, and frowned. "My hands are bigger. And my voice is deeper, too. I think I might be growing a bit. If I continue at this rate, I should be back to adult size within sixteen hours!" He smiled cheerfully, before pausing. "Is it really a good idea to go swimming, or should we get Mycroft?"

"Your mother might disagree," John muttered, before shrugging. He imagines if Mycroft steps in he'll whisk Sherlock away to be experimented upon, and maybe return him when he's full grown. But that wouldn't be pleasant for either of them.

"How about we try to make it to the pool?" He suggested, "Sixteen hours is a long time. At least we know you won't emerge from the shower a grown man."

Sherlock shrugged again: clearly this was a teenage habit. “Sure, but I might need some bigger trunks in case.”

"So... Do you want to head back and grab some?" John tilted his head, "Or should stop somewhere? To buy some?"

"You can buy them at the pool still, we should be fine." He squirmed in his seat and pulled a face of discomfort. "My stomach feels like I'm going into labour, John."

"Are you having a child now, instead of staying as one?" John laughed, before pulling him over, and gently laying his head on his lap. "Just close your eyes and breathe deeply."

Sherlock glared but let himself be pulled down, and tried to relax. He breathed in deeply and felt John's hand stroking through his hair.

John ran his hand through his hair, the other hand going to rub his stomach soothingly, as he hummed under breath, looking out the window. He was careful to keep the worry out of his face.

Sherlock groaned as a particularly painful wave of nausea hit him. He rolled sideways to curl into a foetus shape, burying his head in John’s stomach. “John, maybe we should go home and wait this out. I ache all over.” He whimpered.

"Okay, okay." John said, stroking his hair and trying to remain calm. He changed the direction of the cab, and held Sherlock tight, trying to soothe him with touch. "Deep breaths," he murmured, "Keep breathing."

Sherlock nodded slowly and squeezed his eyes shut. He concentrated on where they were and the roads they turned down until they arrived home. The cab driver turned around, concerned. "Is he gonna be alright, or do ya need anything?"

"No, it's fine. We're good." John told him quickly, not wanting to arouse further suspicion; he paid the fare then picks Sherlock up, carrying him up as he staggered out the cab, unlocking the front door, as he moved up the stairs. He dumped the bag and then lay Sherlock down on the sofa, but Sherlock wouldn’t seem to let go.

"I'll go get you some blankets. Then make you a soup maybe, and get you some painkillers for that stomach. For kids your age of course." John explained, "Do you want me to call Mycroft?"

Sherlock clung onto John, leaning into the warmth and comfort. He made a noise in protest but let go and nodded weakly. "Might as well see if he has any news." He gritted his teeth and curled into a ball again as John left.

John retrieved the blankets, tucking them around Sherlock, before pouring out a glass of water, getting some painkillers, and cutting them in half- so they'd be at a dosage suitable for children. He coaxed Sherlock to uncurl and eases him into a sitting position, helping him drink the liquid and take the pill. He then let Sherlock lean on him as he called Mycroft, a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Mycroft?" He started, "Have you any news on that antidote? Or have you analysed that substance? Your brother seems to be undergoing further changes..."

A sound of worry made its way down the phone. “Fortunately yes, however all our results have been... unsuccessful. What kind of changes, Dr Watson?”

"His voice... He's growing... And he's hurting. His stomach." John purses his lips. "Is there nothing you can do?"

Mycroft sighed, sounding deflated. "I'm afraid not, John. I'll be at your flat in ten minutes, but until then, keep him comfortable. He going to be growing through all his growing pains at once, and as I'm sure you know, he grew a lot."

"Yeah," John continued to chew on his lip, looking worried, "Okay. I'll see you." He hung up the phone, before moving to sit on the sofa, stroking Sherlock's forehead as a mother would a child. "It's going to be okay," he said softly, "Your big brother is coming... He's coming and it's going to be better." He cleared his throat, "In the meantime, need anything? I can turn on the Telly, or get some biscuits. Water?" He offered.

Sherlock leant into the hand and clutched his stomach at another ripple of pain. He shook his head and scrunched up his face in agony. He made a noise like the cross between a scream and a whimper, and felt the hot tears slide down his cheeks. “John, it hurts.” Just then, his hands seemed to grow even bigger, giving him long slender fingers. He cried out and shoved them between his thighs, as if he could squeeze the pain out.

"I know," John says, quietly panicking, "I know it does. Just hold on for awhile, alright? It'll be over soon." He promised, though he wasn't sure, "Look at your hand, Sherlock, it's grown, you'll be back to full size in a bit as long as you be brave now, okay?" He leant over and kissed his forehead, smoothing out his fringe as he tried to calm his own anxiety, brushing his tears away, "Shh... Shh... Tell me what you need."

Sherlock nodded and whimpered, looking at his hand. He could do this: anything to be an adult again. He stuttered through gritted teeth "I-I don't know! I'm fine, I just n-need warmth." He grabbed at John's jumper and hung on, trying to take in the heat and help stop the waves of pain crashing through his body. Another cry escaped his mouth when his arms grew bigger to their adult size, out of proportion with the rest of his body.

Sherlock let John massage his stomach, slightly relieved by the contact and distraction. "Need a good old murder. W-we could go swimming, yes. And back to the bees in the park..." He heard Mycroft walk in and turned to face him. "Myc, can't we do anything?" He cried.

"I'm sure there'll be a good one... Yes, yes to all that." John agreed readily, turning as he heard Sherlock call for Mycroft, not pulling away. "Is there really nothing you can do?" He asked, trying to appear calm.

Mycroft shook his head, a bit shaken from seeing the usually snappy Sherlock practically writhing in pain. He knelt by Sherlock and put his hand through his hair slowly. “I’m so sorry, little brother.” He said softly.

"He tried his best." John said, and it's for the benefit of both brothers. "Will painkillers work?" He wondered aloud, "it might do something to alleviate the pain," he continued to stroke Sherlock's stomach. "What's a suitable distraction for you? A story? A song?" He tilted his head, "Something to make you forget the pain."

Sherlock nodded, knowing that although his brother was a pompous git, he did in fact love him. He squeezed his eyes shut and though. "I-I don't think so, best not to add m-more drugs to my system at t-the moment." He looked at Mycroft through tear-filled eyes and spoke. "Deduction game, Myc. Do you remember?"

John nodded, agreeing, but wishing there was something he could do. He turned to Mycroft as well, waiting. Deduction game, of course that was what the consulting detective had be raised on.

Mycroft nodded and cleared his throat. "Which object, Sherlock? The blanket?" He felt it and immediately started deducing. "It's at least eighteen years old, gifted to John by his mother, she made it using sheep's wool because it's soft and comforted him." He glanced at John and continued. "This is special to you, since your mother died shortly after finishing it, meaning that you will only give it to people you trust will look after it." He looked at Sherlock for his turn of deductions.

John's gaze was also on the blanket, he nodded, indicating Mycroft was right, swallowing. He waited for Sherlock, nudging him gently and encouragingly.

Sherlock took a sharp breath and the words flew out. “Your mother made it, knowing that she was going to die. She used your favourite colours and love for jumpers to influence its design. Since you nearly always wear jumpers, you want to be reminded of her, you want comfort, but you never wear anything like your father, you have a bad relationship with him.”

He looked up at John and saw the look of distant sadness in his eyes. His voice softened as he continued. “Your mother looked after you and was there for you, but your father wasn’t. He likely didn’t approve of Harry’s drunken states or her that she was a lesbian, you defended her and your mother when he came home drunk himself and lashed out.” He stopped, realising he was going too far. “I’m sorry.”

"It's okay." John turned away, sounding choked up. He cleared his throat, running a free hand through his hair, "It was a long time ago, anyway. That was... very good. Brilliant, as always." He gave him a small smile, sadness still lingering in his eyes.

Mycroft sat on the floor, brushing the dust off of his knees, before running a hand through Sherlock’s hair again. Sherlock tried to sit up and apologise properly to his best friend, but another wave of nausea hit him, as his whole body grew back to normal size. He screamed in agony and sobbed into the pillow.

"Easy now, easy." John guided him back to a lying down position, his brow furrowed with worry, and his wrinkles more prominent than ever. He held Sherlock as he cried, letting him know that it was all better now.

"You're done, you're done." He whispered, "You're back to normal, Sherlock. It's over."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know about the angst, I think I was having a pretty psychopath-writing day, but on the bright side normal Sherlock again!  
> Over 2300 hits, I've been grinning like an idiot for days :D 
> 
> Also check out my friend who reviews films as a job, she's amazeballs :) http://livlovfilmsblog.blogspot.co.uk/  
> Hope you enjoyed, see you again soon!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after and Sherlock talks to Mycroft.

Sherlock cried in relief and enveloped John with his now normally sized arms. He buried his head in John's shoulder and breathed in deeply, still shaking from the strain of growing that fast. "Thank god. That was worse than the cocaine." He joked. He looked at Mycroft over his shoulder and nodded to him with a small smile of appreciation. Mycroft returned it and left 221B silently.

John hugged him fiercely, "Don't ever do it again, then." he chuckled, sounding quite relieved, "That was really quite awful."

"I have absolutely no intentions of doing that again, don't worry." He chuckled deeply, before sighing and pulling back, looking John in the eye. "Thank you for everything, John Watson."

"Good, don't recreate that serum accidentally, or anything." John chided, before smiling wearily, "It's alright, Sherlock Holmes." he addressed him playfully with the same long title, "I did enjoy some parts of it." He held back a yawn, "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be off getting some sleep." He was tired; he hadn't slept the last night after all. "It's good to have you back."   
Sherlock nodded. "I can't even remember the formula, it should be fine." He smirked at John before turning to go to bed."Sleep well, John." He smiled softly, and closed the bedroom door. He practically melted into the bed and found himself in a dreamless sleep.

"You might do it on accident." John scoffed, before he nodded, "Sleep well, Sherlock." He called after him, and stands, clearing some of the plates and what not. He ended up falling asleep on the sofa halfway, curled up against his blanket, out like a light. He was exhausted from a sleepless night and looking after a child, and slept for a good long while. 

\----------------------------------------------------

Sherlock woke at 4:16am the next day, and groaned into the pillow. He climbed lazily out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen wrapped in the bed sheet. He heard a noise behind him and turned to see a sleeping John curled up on the sofa. He smiled and walked over to him, pulling the blanket over him properly and straightening it out.

"Sherlock..?" John murmured sleepily, stirring, his eyes blinking open, but at half most, "What's going on..?" 

Sherlock froze and whispered "Go back to sleep, I was just pulling it back up. You looked cold." He patted his shoulder.

"Mmkay. Thanks." John lapsed back into sleep almost immediately, his mouth slackening as his head rested on the sofa. 

Sherlock smiled as John drooled a bit and walked back into the kitchen to get his phone and text Mycroft.

I wish to thank you for your help with this situation. Do you want my old violin back? -SH

I'm afraid I could not help as much as I wanted to, brother. No, it is fine. Keep it with you. -MH 

Myc, it's fine. Stop being all brotherly and responsible, it's very out of character. Don't think this means I owe you a favour though. -SH

I wouldn't dream of daring to think such a thing, brother mine. Do ensure you and Doctor Watson do not try to expose yourselves to your awful concoctions in the future. I am not at your beck and call. -MH

Sherlock rolled his eyes. I’ll try. Really, I thought that was your one use. –SH 

Glad to see your brief return to childhood has done nothing to damage your charm. I suggest getting some rest, brother. It is an ungodly hour after all, and I didn't think Doctor Watson would be awake cleaning up after you -MH

He scowled and text back furiously fast. 

Glad to see your relationship with cake has gotten stronger. You nearly lost weight for a second. I've slept enough for a few days, I'll pass. -SH

And your dependency on the doctor has grown to appalling standards. Perhaps if you actually summon up the nerve I might actually get the happy announcement by the end of the week I have been so eagerly waiting for. If you say so, but I will not be there to pick up the pieces again. -MH

Sherlock sighed and leant on the headrest of the bed. John must never know.

That's none of your business. I think I can cope. Good night, Mycroft. –SH

And you were so sure I was the one who could not handle a broken heart. Good night, brother. -MH

Sherlock growled at his phone and threw it onto the pillow next to him. He needed more data before he would confront John about his feelings. He knew Mycroft was right: he wouldn't be able to handle it. He closed his eyes and waited for a solution to appear in his mind palace. Five minutes later, it came to him. He could both observe John's scar and maybe find out if his feelings were reciprocated. 

Swimming!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a long time since the last update, but if I can give you this small one and a bigger one tomorrow :)  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally go swimming and Sherlock sees John's scar.

John woke late in the morning, groaning as he stretched out, pushing the blanket off him as he sat up sleepily. "Sherlock?" He called out, not sure if the man had left earlier, as he sometimes did. 

Sherlock appeared fully dressed from his room in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. “Good morning, John. I wondered if you wanted to go swimming finally. There’s some toast on the table for you, and your towel and trunks are still packed form yesterday. I thought you deserved a break from all the... drama of the last few days.” 

"Thanks..." John rubbed the back of his head a little wondrously; it was rather strange behaviour coming from Sherlock of all people. "Morning, by the way." He stood, pulling the blanket off, "I'll return it to my room, first." He said quietly, a little embarrassed by the whole revelation yesterday, hurrying along and folding it up neatly on his bed. He walked out and sat before his plate of toast, slathering it with Jam before eating it, "And you've got proper sized trunks this time?" 

Sherlock watched John walk to his room and from the safety of the kitchen, he smiled. When John returned, he sat down on the stool opposite. "Yes, thankfully. Haven't gone swimming in years though, I don't know if they'll fit." He pulled a face.

"I am sure they will, if not we'll get some at the pool..." John suggested, "I haven't gone swimming in ages, I'm not even sure if I remember how," He chuckled, before sliding the plate over, "Want some?" He offered, "You need strength to swim, you know." 

Sherlock nodded. "They should be fine; I bought them a few years ago for a case." He chuckled. "I could always reteach you how to swim." He laughed. He shook his head at the toast, secretly he enjoyed the noises John made whilst eating jam: it made him want to laugh. "I'll be fine, John."

"That'll be a right laugh." John's cheeks turned faintly pink just thinking about it. He shrugged, "You'll have something for lunch though," He told him, reaching for another piece, slathering on the jam thickly, oblivious before biting into it, humming appreciatively, "It's good toast," He said, "Thanks." 

Sherlock noticed the pint tinge in John's cheeks and smiled. "Fine, but I pick what it is. None of that soup stuff again." He pulled a face of disgust. He smiled at the compliment, and replied "It's nothing, I mastered how long to put toast in, in University. Drove my room-mate crazy by waking up to burnt toast every morning." He chuckled.

"Alright, fine." John laughed at the face he made, "It wasn't too bad, the soup." He laughed even harder at that, "Your poor room-mate, I can imagine. But I must thank him, because now I have toast." John said cheerfully, holding up his piece. He ate it up quickly. 

Sherlock laughed with John and grinned one of his rare smiles. "I suppose. You and your love for jam." He chuckled happily. He stood up and took the empty plate from John, before placing it in the sink and rinsing his fingers.

John seemed to glow under his smile, standing and moving to wash his hands as well, their shoulders brushing together, "Shall we, then?" He offered. 

Sherlock relished the touch and noticed the happy glint in John's eyes. He smiled back and nodded. He flicked his wet hands at John's face and laughed at the moment the water hit his face. He ducked away to avoid revenge, snorting.

"Oi!" John pouted, moving a hand to rub his face, "What was that for?' He huffed, stomping his foot, but being unable to take revenge, had nothing more for it, and he wasn't going to sulk, like Sherlock. 

Sherlock sniggered and held his stomach. "You were going all soppy for a second, I was worried." He giggled. He picked up the bag full of their swimming gear and waved it at John. "Ready?" He said amused, grabbing his wallet.

"I was not going soppy, you child!" John grumbled at him, "Ready."

Sherlock smirked. "John, considering I was a child less than twelve hours ago, you might want a better insult." He opened the door and grabbed John's coat, before sliding his own on. He smiled at the feeling of his Belstaff and handed John his.

John took his, muttering, "I'm starting to wonder if your mind ever made the transformation, then." He slipped it on and moved out the door. 

Sherlock pouted but walked down the stairs. "We're going swimming, Mrs Hudson! Won't be back for a few hours." He yelled.

"Alright! Back to normal eh?" The land lady popped her head out, smiling broadly at them. She waggled her eyebrows at Sherlock, as if she knew. She always assumed, anyway. "Have a nice swim!" John nodded, waving to her.

Sherlock grinned at her and nodded. "Will do." He looked at John and opened the front door, gesturing for him to leave.

John left, moving out onto the street where he hailed a cab and waited for Sherlock. 

Sherlock closed the door and walked over to John. He climbed into the cab and said the address.

John leant back in his seat while the cab drove on, his mind elsewhere. He watched the buildings fly by, thinking about yesterday's events. He had no idea what Sherlock had in store for him. 

Sherlock watched John out of the corner of his eye, going over and over the plan in his head. It had to work, or things would never be the same between them.

The cab stopped and John disembarked, humming softly, oblivious. He waited for Sherlock to pay and get off also.

Sherlock noticed the humming and smiled. "I didn't know you knew Coldplay, John." He said, paying the cabbie and climbing out. He grabbed the bag and shut the door, looking at the huge sports centre. "Shall we?"

John chuckled, shaking his head bashfully before nodding, "Alright, let's go." 

Sherlock grinned behind John's back as they walked in and paid for 2 adults. They walked down to the changing rooms before Sherlock opened the bag and took put his trunks, handing John his stuff. "Are you going in a cubicle or here?" He asked, hoping John wouldn't say a cubicle.

"Here is fine," John said, taking his clothes, he was used to changing in front of others due to his days spent serving the army and thought little of it. Without much care he took off his shirt, momentarily forgetting his scar, and removed his trousers, concentrated. 

Sherlock stared as he undressed: he finally got to see his scar. It was a deep purple starburst on his shoulder, and Sherlock felt the urge to touch it. He slowly but subtlety moved towards John as he took off his trousers. 

John didn't notice, removing his pants before slipping on his trunks, his movements causing the scar to ripple and stretch. He hadn't let himself go much either, maintaining his healthy, muscular physique which he chose to conceal under his cuddly jumpers. He stretched, raising his arms, the scar and his shoulder growing taunt, before he turned to smile relaxedly at Sherlock, "Ready?" 

Sherlock blushed as John turned around, and looked away quickly. He really needed to convince John to wear tighter tops more often. He nodded as he tightened his own trunks, looking back at John's scar, but John caught him.

John met his gaze, before ducking his head, clearly embarrassed. Now he remembered the scar, and now he felt self conscious, raising his other hand to cover it, "Okay then..." He says lowly, avoiding his gaze, "Let's get into the water..." 

Sherlock made a noise of protest and batted John’s hand away from his shoulder. “I... I think it’s fascinating, John. It's who you are, don’t cover it up.” He put his hand on John’s shoulder and touched it. It felt smooth on the surface but he felt lumps underneath it. He smiled softly and met John’s gaze. “Let’s go.” He half spoke, half whispered.

John stiffened at the contact, initially, but eventually relaxed, still not looking Sherlock in the eye. "Okay." He spoke softly as well, repeating himself "Okay." 

Then Sherlock's hand fell away, and they were walking to the pool in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly 3000 hits, 76 kudos and you lovely commentors :3 each of you deserves a pocket martin!  
> We've been writing some more, we're on about 45 pages now, but we're 25 pages down, so I'm gonna keep posting one long chapter every saturday :)  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnlock finally happens.

Sherlock hid his disappointment when John stiffened at his touch, but walked silently next to him. In order to break the tension, he glanced at his and smiled. "Can I cannonball in?" He winked.

John seemed all too willing to pick up the conversation, relief showing in his face, "You can, if I don't push you in first," he gave the other man a little shove. 

Sherlock slid a little before belly flopping into the water. A look of horror and amusement covered his face as he resurfaced, before he grabbed John's ankle and gave him a shark-like grin, pulling him in. "John Watson, you will pay for that!" He laughed deeply.

John fell into the water, flailing his arms, spluttering as he resurfaced. But he laughed, and he laughed hard, splashing some water over at Sherlock.   
"That was a very nice canon ball!" He mocked, "Very graceful." 

Sherlock snorted and coughed on some water, clinging to the side of the pool. He got his breath back and started laughing. "I try my hardest." He chuckled, splashing water back at John in a huge wave, before ducking under the surface. He suddenly stopped and realised he'd hit the bottom of the 'deep' pool. He jumped up and pouted. "I'm too tall for the deep end John."

“That’s too bad." John said sarcastically, clearly not sympathizing with him, for his head barely skimmed the surface of the water when his feet were on the ground. "How terrible it must be to be tall!" He huffed, splashing Sherlock with another wave, now that he could not hide, "I've got you now, Holmes." He chuckled evilly, diving under the water. 

Sherlock sniggered at John's height: or rather lack of height. "Quite, you bang your head on things constantly!" He saw the wave as it hit him in the face. He gasped he wiped his eye and looked to see where John had disappeared to. 

John grabbed his shin, wrapping his hand around his leg as he yanked him down, bubbles of air escaping from his mouth as he laughed silently, face to face with a surprised Sherlock underwater. 

Sherlock yelled in surprise as he was dragged under, swatting at his attacker. He mouthed "It is on, John Watson." before grabbing John's torso and tickling him, but hoisting him out of the water so that he wouldn't choke on water. Sherlock avoided the flailing arms and lifted John up to carry him bridal style, before dumping him back in the water a little shallower. 

John resurfaced, spitting out a mouthful of water, quite red in the face. His stomach hurt from laughing, he tried to suppress a grin as he stayed afloat. "You're awful!"

Sherlock grinned, his hair plastered to his face. He swept it back into a spike and pulled a pose. "Yes, but I'm worth it." He got out, before falling into a fit of giggles. He grabbed John's arm and held him up so he could float properly. "Still too deep for you?" He teased.

"Are you?" John grumbles, but grudgingly let's him hold him up, "Not all of us can be as tall as you, you know." He reached a hand and poked Sherlock hair, "it's nice, but I think the Afro will impress me more."

Sherlock smirked. "Of course, otherwise you wouldn't have put up with me. And it's all in the genetics; my father was like a skyscraper." He chuckled. He watched John fluff up his hair a bit and moved his other arm to make John's into a Mohican. "You like afros?" He joked. After finishing with John's hair, he admired his work and snorted. "You look like some kind of punk star."

John growled at him playfully, ducking his hair in the water, slicking it down, "I'm sure mine will look nothing compared to yours," he teased, "I just can't wait to see it."   
Sherlock scowled and then a face of annoyance fell onto his face. “I forgot shampoo! I am going to have an afro.” He groaned, rubbing his hair so it was away from his face.

John chuckled, "Sherlock with an afro... and you'll have to walk the streets with it, too!" He seemed delighted at his friend's misfortune, "It just keeps getting better and better!" He teased. 

Sherlock scowled and pushed John under the water. He smiled as John had to push off of the bottom and chuckled at the look of rage on his face. He swam away with a tidal wave of water being pushed away by his feet.

John huffed, pushing off after him upon regaining his breath, swimming in wide, clear strokes, trying to catch up with him. 

Sherlock had never been a strong swimmer, so John caught up with him quickly. But Sherlock was hidden under the water right at the bottom, so John couldn't see him. He waited until John was right above him, before pushing off of the bottom and appearing right in front of him. He laughed as John jumped and swatted water everywhere. He looked at John's eyes, hoping to see them dilated at the sight of his face.

They did, dilate slightly, and his cheeks seemed to be overcome with a slight pink flush, before he turned his head away quickly, laughing. "Jesus Christ... I told you your brain didn't grow with the rest of you; we're acting like kids..." 

Sherlock smiled at John's dilated pupils, and realised that he might have a chance. "Maybe, but all the best of fun happens when you're a child." He winked. "After all, you learn things new every day..." He glanced at John's lips.

"You didn't seem so pleased about it when you were a child." John is averting his eyes, looking rather antsy. Unconsciously he licks his lips, "Y-you do?" 

Sherlock swayed his head in slight agreement. "Meh, a little." He noticed the lip-lick and grinned. "Indeed..."

John fidgeted, "You better not be preparing to pull me under the water," He muttered, blinking at Sherlock. 

Sherlock shook his head and chuckled. "No, not now." He glanced at John's lips again and then straight to his eyes. "I'm happy right here." He said contently.

"That's good." John said mildly, looking back into his eyes. Again he licked his lips, and bit down on the lower one. He wasn’t sure if he was interpreting Sherlock correctly right now, he looked like he was about to lean in and-

Sherlock saw John finally analyse everything in his brain, and took this as a sign. He leant down and kissed John lightly on the lips for a few seconds, before pulling back. After a few seconds of silence, he dared to open his eyes again and look at John.

John looked quite floored, before he recovered, clearing his throat. "That was-" He starts, studying Sherlock's face intently, "Did you mean that?" 

Sherlock's face softened. "Of course. I would never lie to you, John. But if you don't want this... I can stop." He finished the sentence with a sad look on his face. What if John didn't really like him? What if he was wrong?

"I just don't want it to be another trick, or a game, an experiment." John murmured, before reaching up, and raising his head, pressing their lips together, gently, unsurely, his arm sliding up Sherlock's shoulder, his hand around the back of his neck, "That's all." 

Sherlock leant in again and slid his hands around John's waist, pulling him in closer. "Never," he kissed him, "I would never do that," another, "to you." He kissed him harder and slower, wanting to remember all of this forever in his Mind Palace.

"Liar." John declared, for Sherlock had before, and they both knew it. He enjoyed the kiss, relishing it, drawing it out, as he pressed his body to Sherlock's tentatively, deepening the kiss. 

Sherlock grinned before the kiss continued. "But if I hadn't have done, we wouldn't be in this situation." He whispered smugly, licking John's lips. He moaned quietly as John deepened the kiss, and moved his hands down to John's hips. John's mouth tasted like jam, he thought.

"We're going to have to talk about this." John murmured, shivering slightly, his other hand resting on Sherlock's hip, pushing him over to the wall of the pool, kissing him thoroughly again. 

Sherlock made a small noise of disappointment when John pulled away for a second."Yes, but not now." He whined, moving backwards with John. He kissed him again and explored John's mouth with his tongue, finding new tastes like toothpaste.

John gave a deep throated chuckle as he tilted his head back, letting Sherlock's tongue enters his mouth, his own tongue brushing against it, running across Sherlock's parted lips.

Sherlock hummed and smiled into John's mouth at the laugh, licking John's teeth and feeling his sand blond hair on his cheek. He squeezed John's hips slightly and picked him up in the water. "John Watson, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do this."

John laughed quietly again as he felt himself being lifted, "How long?" He breathed into Sherlock's mouth, shaping his lips against his, his hand around the back of his neck tightening.

"Ever since you shot the cabbie for me." He said quietly. "You are the first person who would do that for me." He smiled and kissed him softly. "And for that, I love you." He kissed him, feeling John's legs wrap around his own. "Also, I feel like a tree, right now." He giggled, high on adrenaline from the kiss.

"You're tall enough to be one," John tilted his head to the side, kissing him from another angle, "You... love me?" their mouths were breaths apart, "I thought you were married to your work..." His eyes found Sherlock’s again. "I would do it again... in a heartbeat." 

Sherlock chuckled, leaning in to John. "...yes. I am also happy to inform you, that you are my first kiss. Thank you." He smiled. "I was, until you became a part of my work." He met John's gaze and murmured, "And I for you."

"Really?" John looked surprised, "You're... more than welcome." He laughed, moving to rest his head on Sherlock's shoulder, "Well, thank god for that, then. For the longest time I thought you weren't interested."

Sherlock grinned his rare genuine smile and quirked his lip. "We really need to work on your detective skills, otherwise this would have happened much sooner." He chuckled, leaning his head onto John's, kissing his hair.

John snorted playfully, "I thought I was reading it all wrong. Even when you showed up on my dates and offered to bring me on a date." He smiled, pressing a kiss on Sherlock's collarbone. "At least we got here in the end."

Sherlock chuckled. “Never mind, we’re good now, right?” He nuzzled into John’s neck and placed a kiss on his jaw line.

"Yes, we are..." John lifted his head, exposing his neck for him, closing his eyes briefly.

Sherlock smiled gratefully, his cheeks aching from all the happy smiles. "John, as much as I love this, I have to stop smiling or my face is going to pull a muscle." He stretched to kiss John's neck, working his way down to his adam's apple, biting gently on it.

"Nonsense." John buried his face in his curls, his hand moving down to curve around his shoulder, "It's a sign to use those muscles more then," he sang, before gasping a little as he felt the teeth against his skin. 

Sherlock chuckled deeply and moved round to John’s ear, sucking on his earlobe. If he remembered right, this was a good feeling. “If I’m with you, I’ll end up scaring Donovan with all the smiles. But it would be worth it with the smiles on their faces.” He stopped for a second. “They don’t know actually. We can keep it secret if you want.”

John's back arched a little, and he released a quick gasp. "Ah! Well, they'll get used to it eventually... Of course they don't know, I just found out myself five minutes ago." He stopped for a moment, this was part of the serious moment they were meant to have. 

"You really want this, don't you?" He had to hear it; he didn't want Sherlock jumping into something on a whim, "You and me... Us... It'll change... Well, not everything. But a lot."  
Sherlock smiled, before frowning. “Of course. I know it will change things, but if you are completely comfortable with that, then so am I.” He looked John in the eye. “Do you want this?”

John didn't hesitate, he nodded, swallowing. "Yes, I do." 

Sherlock smiled before whispering, “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo johnlock (yes I ship it, can you tell?) ! I have my Duke of Edinburgh training this weekend, so an extra long one is posted today :) Smut will be making appearances from now on, we braved it out, blushed through writing it but we managed it!  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changing room, the way home and Mrs Hudson.

He kissed him again, running his tongue along John’s lips.

John indulged in that kiss, making a small noise only Sherlock could hear, his hold on him tightening. But he caught himself, pulling away breathlessly. His eyes were bright and pupils were dilated. "Come on," he said hoarsely, "let's get out of here, it's not like we're gonna do much swimming anyway." He cleared his throat. 

Sherlock moaned at the noise and whined when John pulled back, but grinned at his suggestion. "I'm all ears." He winked. He swung John around to carry him on his back and swam to the steps, before grabbing the hand rails and heaving himself and John up.

"P-put me down!" John yelled, flustered by the stares they were getting, as Sherlock continued to carry him out of the pool. 

Sherlock chuckled but obliged, looking at the people staring. He made sure they were all looking before kissing John smack on the lips, and pulling back smiling smugly. A pair of swimmers down the end of the pool clapped, and Sherlock deduced they were also gay. He waved to them and smiled as other adults scowled. 

John waved back to them awkwardly, a little surprised by the public display. Otherwise he gave the rest of the adults, who were acting like children and muttering angrily amongst themselves, the finger, before pulling Sherlock away to get changed. 

Sherlock smirked as the other adults scowled at them, and he let himself be led away. He put his mouth next to John's ear, "Well done, John." he purred, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. He felt John shiver at the sudden change in temperature and pulled him closer. "That better?"

John felt a smile grow on his face, his arms winding around his waist. Droplets of water rolled down his cheek and bare chest. "Much better." He laughed softly.   
Sherlock smiled affectionately as they entered the changing room, which was empty. He took this as an opportunity to pick up John again, grab their bag and enter a cubicle just in case they were seen.

"Put me down," John protested weakly, "twelve hours ago I was the one carrying you!" He reached a hand to shut the cubicle door behind them, still being held up. He laughed, happily, "If you keep this up I'm never letting go!" He tried to warn.

Sherlock giggled. "Yes, but you can see the appeal to it. And I have no problems with that..." he murmured, leaning in to kiss him with a smile on his face.

John kissed him back, lightly, also smiling wider than before. "Mm, you're really getting the hang of this kissing thing aren't you? Now I've helped you start, I don't think you'll ever stop!" He giggled, "You will have problems, when we're walking in the street, no-one will take us seriously at a crime scene...”

Sherlock grinned into the kiss and sighed. "So it seems, by your reactions. It'll be fine; everyone already thought we were together anyway. They don't know I'm gay and you’re assumably bisexual." 

John nodded to that, "I guess they all saw it before we did, hmm?" He smiled, "Calls for a celebration..." But then he stopped, "There's still Molly we have to break this to, you know. We have to let her down gently." He bit his lip. 

Sherlock nodded and tilted his head. “I guess we were the only ones who didn’t see it. Mrs Hudson will be happy; she’ll probably make a cake.” He joked, rolling his eyes. He stopped and screwed up his mouth. “Yes, but I’ll need your help doing it. She knew I wasn’t interested before, but now... I suppose we’ll have to be nice and apologise.” 

"And Angelo will still leave the candle on the table." John licked his lips, which were slightly swollen, and redder than usual, "Actually, not much will change." He smiled, "I think we saw it, but didn't see each other seeing it, if that makes sense." He nodded, "Yes... I hope she won't be too upset." He furrowed his brow, Molly was his friend too. 

Sherlock laughed and nodded. “That’s probably right, yes.” He chuckled. “If we don’t kiss too much around her, then she won’t feel as bad. Or is that not good?” He frowned.  
John shrugged, "We will try not to be so affectionate around her, if it doesn't make her uncomfortable..." He laughed, "If you don't let me down I'll never get to change, you know."

Sherlock nodded slowly, before laughing. "Yes, my legs are going numb too. And I think my arms have turned into ice blocks." He chuckled. He put John on the floor gently and kissed his nose. "I am happy that you like me back, though." He murmured happily.

"Jesus, you should have let me down earlier," John took up his hand, rubbing it between his own to warm it out. He twitched his nose at the kiss, smiling, "So am I... For so long I didn't dare to hope... I was just content to be your friend." He reached into the bag and got out a towel, leaning up to wrap it around Sherlock's shoulders. 

Sherlock ducked down and smiled crookedly. "You were far too patient, John. I don't know how I didn't kiss you on our first case together. Or when we first met." He chuckled, shaking his head. He sighed as the warm towel covered him, and kissed John's head as he got out his towel. He ruffled the towel through John's hair to dry it, before rubbing his shoulder, avoiding the scar.

"We were both far too patient, but it was well worth it. Now we will make up for lost time and missed kisses." John grinned mischievously, leaning into his touch as he felt the towel against his scalp, and the slender hands do the work. He watched the towel as it slipped to his shoulder, feeling it against his bare skin. "At least I have no Afro, still." He shook his damp, darkened hair teasingly.

Sherlock grinned back, “We have a lot to make up for.” He winked, moving to dry John’s back and waist. “”No afro, that’s good,” He laughed, “Although you’d look good with any haircut.” He whispered in his ear. “I am thankfully afro-free, too!”

"How'd you know?" John cocked his head, and asked, "You look like a wet dog," he laughed heartily, "Here, it's my turn to dry you, stand still." He leant up on his toes and took the towel from Sherlock's shoulders, rubbing his chest and arms with it, before getting at his hair.

Sherlock chuckled but stood still. “Pupils dilated when I swam in front of you. And you were looking at my bum when we walked in.” He snorted, leaning into John’s soothing hands.

"I find it amazing how you never did notice, you consulting detective." He leant up, kissed his nose, the towel moving over his broad shoulders. "You do have a nice bum."  
Sherlock chuckled and leant into John’s kiss. “There are some things which are new to me, for example sentiment.” He felt the towel dry his shoulders and he instantly felt warmer. He laughed and nodded. “I’ve always thought so.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow but smiled, taking his shirt. "I don't mind, I just don't want things to go wrong..."

"We won't know until we try, right?" John took his own shirt, pulling it over his head smoothly, "We'll just give us a go, and try to smoothen out whatever problems we face. Easier than it sounds, I know." He laughed. 

Sherlock smiled and nodded, buttoning up his shirt before drying his lower half. “We should be fine. We’ve been through worse anyway...” He trailed off. He shook his head and cleared his thoughts. “Yes, we’ll be fine.” He took of his swimming trunks and handed John the towel, before pulling on his pants.

John took the towel, systemically drying his lower half before stuffing it back in the bag, pulling on his pants and trousers. "Yes, we have. Just talk to me, alright? About whatever problems we encounter, or if you feel we're going too fast and need to slow down..." His hand was on Sherlock's upper arm, warm and reassuring. "Talk to me then, alright? Don't force yourself into anything."

Sherlock nodded gratefully. “I will. And the same with you, I know I can be stubborn, just say if something is a bit not good or anything.” He smiled shyly, pulling up his trousers and smoothing down his shirt.

"Sure," John watched him, and then offered his hand, shyly, "Shall we go?" He moved the bag over his shoulder, carrying it this time.   
Sherlock grinned and nodded, taking John’s hand. He looked down and smirked, opening the door with his other hand. “Your hands are tiny, John. It’s rather adorable.” He chuckled.

"That's a bit rich coming from someone who was a kid less than twelve hours ago," John laughed, holding his hand a little tighter, "I am not, I can't help that you have huge hands, and long fingers. Perfect for the violin." They leave through the door, ignoring the glares they receive. 

Sherlock scowled at the people who glared as they left, and returned a short squeeze of John’s hand. “Yeah, but that was my fault, you can’t help being adorable.” He teased. “That’s part of the reason I took up violin. I’ve always had big hands. And that it annoyed Mycroft.” He shook his head, smiling.

"I'm not adorable," John continued to say, pulling him along, "I suppose you can't help being handsome... Oh." He laughed at that, "Well, thank god for those reasons. I like your violin, when I don't hear it at three in the morning, that is." 

Sherlock hummed and stretched his legs further in front to stand next to John again. "Well..." He looked at him and chuckled. "It helps you sleep sometimes. Especially Vivaldi and Brahms."

"Yeah, sometimes. When I've had a bad night." John nodded, "Thanks for that, by the way. I never got to say." He raised his free hand, hailing a cab, "And there's one more you always play, when I have a nightmare especially, what is it called?' 

Sherlock smiled, his nose crinkling. “It’s fine; if it helps you I’d rather do it.” He stopped and squeezed John’s free hand. “It’s Four Seasons by Vivaldi. It’s one of my favourites as well, I’ll admit.” He climbed into the cab that had just pulled up and scooted along for John.

John climbed in after him, sitting closer to him than before, even without realizing it, giving the cab driver their address. "I really like that one," he said fondly. "It's nice, soothing...You play it well." 

Sherlock noticed the smaller distance between them and leant into John slightly, appreciating the comment. “Thank you.” He put his chin on John’s head and looked forwards . The cab driver smiled at him in the mirror and winked, giving him the thumbs up. Sherlock smiled and rolled his eyes, but put an arm around John’s shoulders.

John didn’t notice the driver, he was oblivious, looking out the window and humming softly, under breath, completely content. 

Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed, smelling John’s hair. “What do you want to do later, hmm?” He said quietly.

"Whatever you feel up to doing." John smiled to himself, "We could take it easy, I think I need to return to work tomorrow, sadly." 

Sherlock's grin dropped. "Do you have to? Can't you just tell Sarah that you're ill?" 

John sighed softly, "I've told her that for the past two days.. I'm sorry, but we can make the best of today, can't we?" He suggested hopefully, trying to make Sherlock smile again.   
Sherlock nodded sadly. “One day. Then we have the whole weekend.” He smiled softly. 

"Yes," John found he couldn't quite stand to see him sad, "If you like, and if you're not busy... You could drop by tomorrow at lunch hour... around one? Then we could go together." He cleared his throat. "Only if you'd like to, I know you're typically busy.." 

Sherlock’s smile grew as he replied, “I’d love to. I’m sure I could make time for you.” He snuggled into John’s neck. “I’ll always make time for you.”

John knew what a big commitment that was, coming from Sherlock, and he smiled widely, clearly quite pleased. "It means a lot to hear you say that." He confessed, before laughing, "Now I really am looking forward to it." 

Sherlock chuckled. “Good. You should be...” He whispered in John’s ear, just as the cab pulled up to 221B. Sherlock didn’t want to get off of John, but once they were inside... He thrust a tenner at the cabbie and dragged John out.

"Whoa there," John laughed, hopping on one foot as he was dragged out, "Slow down, I didn't know you were so excited to return home!"

Sherlock flashed a cheeky grin at him and grabbed John’s hand, opening the door with the other. “I can hide my excitement well, I can hide a lot of things.” He walked in and ran up the stairs, two at a time. “Come on, John!” He whipped around and grinned.

John laughed as he was pulled up the stairs, nearly tripping, "I don't understand," He chuckled, "What's gotten into you?" 

Mrs Hudson stuck her head out, "Boys, why are you making such a ruckus? What's going on?"

Sherlock grinned at him. “I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time and I plan to enjoy myself.” He turned to Mrs Hudson and winked. “Mrs Hudson, we might only be needing one bedroom now.”

"Oh," She clapped her hands, delighted, "You two.. Finally!" She disappeared, presumably to get biscuits and what not to celebrate. 

John laughed at the absurdity of it all, "Enjoy yourself how, my detective?' He asked. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, turning to John and whispering, "It depends how my dear Doctor is feeling..." 

John bit his lip, "And how is the dear doctor meant to feel?" 

Sherlock swallowed hard. "Very happy, and possibly aroused..." He glanced downwards and smirked. "Definitely aroused." 

John blushed deeply, "And.. what exactly do you plan to do about it?" he looked into Sherlock's eyes, "There's no way you can expect me not to react to your body after swimming.." He swallowed, watching Sherlock closely. 

Sherlock kissed John's lips softly and looked into his eyes. "I plan to help your little, situation, and maybe you could help mine..." He pulled up the stairs gently until they were in the safety of their flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I survived the D of E weekend! Huzzah and whatnot :) There will be smut in the next chapter and from this point on, in case you want to skip it or just as a warning. We braved and blushed our way through writing it, but it has been done!!
> 
> I've done another small drunk Sherlock fic, but don't know whether it's worth posting, so if you want it just tell me :)   
> I'm drowning in all these lovely comments and kudos, I love you guys!
> 
> My tumblr is http://hmsjohnlocked.tumblr.com/ if you're interested.  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock do the do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT AHEAD. Ye have been warned.

"Definitely," John murmured, before helping to shut the door behind them, dropping the bag. He engaged Sherlock in another kiss almost immediately, pushing against him. 

Sherlock moaned, letting himself be pushed. “You,” kiss, “Are the most amazing man,” kiss, “I have ever met.” He finished, his hands in John’s hair. He deepened the kiss and ran his tongue over John’s lips.

"Nonsense," John spoke against his lips, shivering a little, "Have you ever met yourself?" He leant on his toes, his hands snaking around Sherlock's waist, content to let him direct the speed and intensity of the kiss. 

Sherlock smiled into the kiss. “And that is why I love you.” He moved his hands down to John’s neck and slowed the kiss down, sucking on John’s tongue.

John laughed breathlessly, his grip tightening on his waist, his lips parting wider so Sherlock could do as he pleased. He tilted his head a little, and moved backwards, until he felt his own back hit the wall, as he continued to kiss his new lover. It was like no kiss he ever shared before. 

Sherlock moaned and moved his hands down over John’s chest, before wrapping his long arms around John’s waist and picking him up. “Shall we take this somewhere comfier, or too soon?” He murmured happily.

"You decided if it's too soon." John attacked his lips again, his hands moving upwards, his arms winding around his neck. When he pulled away, his face was flushed. "Your bedroom or mine?"

Sherlock gasped. “Mine’s closer.” He carried John with ease to the bedroom and deposited his carefully on the bed, leaning over him and pressing kisses to his neck and collarbone. “You’re so perfect.”

"Rubbish." John scoffed, moving his head back to expose more of his skin, looking down on him, his pupils dilated again, his legs winding around Sherlock's waist, trying to lock him in place, "You on the other hand..."

Sherlock snorted, “Fine, we’re both perfect...” He kissed John’s neck and sucked, a love bite forming already. He licked across John’s scar and heard John moan, sending a shiver down his body. He tested the area again and received a gasp. “I think, John Watson, I’ve found your weak spot.” He grinned.

"Mmm.." John's head was back, his eyes were closed as the hazy expression of bliss had crossed his face. "Don't have a weak spot, Sherlock..." He threw his arms around his neck, pulling him closer. 

Sherlock hummed and sucked on his starburst scar, swirling his tongue over its surface. He moved up to John’s neck again, trying to rediscover what had made him moan before. He hit the spot when he bit gently on John’s Adams apple. He hummed around it, chuckling. “There we go...” As he received a moan.

John's lips parted at that moan, wider than before, it had clearly taken him by surprise. "More..." He murmured, before clearing his throat, "More, Sherlock please..."  
"Don't stop." 

Sherlock continued to suck his neck and moved his hands down to John’s hips. “May I?” He whispered, holding the tops of John’s trousers.

John nodded, unable to say anymore, as his hands tightened around Sherlock's waist, hoping his could convert his urgency and need.

Sherlock slowly peeled off John’s trousers and jumper, before taking off his own clothes. He returned to John’s neck and felt heat pooling to his lower abdomen. He swallowed hard and swirled his tongue over John’s neck, kissing and sucking until small love-bites formed.

"John," He gasped between kisses, "Pants too? Or too soon?" He moaned as John's hands rubbed his chest and sides.

"P-please..." John whined softly, "Pants... If you will..." His hands travelled along Sherlock's chest, as his body ground against him, already actively seeking delicious friction, the love bites making him wince in slight pain, but moan quietly in pleasure, "Now.. Everyone will know.." He panted.

Sherlock moaned deeply and proceeded to take of their pants as well, noticing the wincing. “Sorry, someone said it felt good.” He kissed John on the forehead to apologise and lay back down next to John and kissed him on the lips, the newly found friction sending shivers of pleasure around his body. “God... John. Why.... have I never done this?” He gasped out.

"It does... The pain feels good..." John hummed, wrapping his arms around his neck as he pulled him over, until Sherlock was above him. They kissed again, slowly, gently, but with a deeper sense of urgency, and between them exists a desperation that compelled John to try and pull Sherlock to him. "I don't know.. Better late than never," he nipped at the other man's lower lip, fingers exploring bare, unmarked skin. 

Sherlock gasped and moaned, the pleasure stopping him from forming words. “Ye-yes. John! Oh god!” He moved his hand down to John’s manhood and stroked, wanting to make John feel the same bliss. He kissed him again, slowly and deeply.

John tensed and relaxed at his touch, his tone pleading, "More, Sherlock please... I need more.." He clawed at him to convey his need, before he kissed him again, their lips crashing together with a frenzied hunger.

Sherlock’s mind froze: now what should he do? "What do you want me to do, tell me what you need." He moaned lowly in John's ear, continuing to stroke.

John's breaths came quick and fast, he was shaking, slightly. "I want..." He paused. What did he want? He couldn't think, "You in me... Fill Me, Sherlock please..."

Sherlock nodded and kissed John's lips, reaching over to his bedside table to grab a bottle of lube. He smeared some on his fingers, before slowly slipping one inside John. He heard John gasp and let him adjust before adding a second.

John clenched around it, moaning loudly now. He felt so tight, and Sherlock's fingers seemed to bring about pulses of pleasure as he drew them in and out, in and out. John shuddered, his whole frame trembling. He wanted, needed more... "Sherlock... Need..." 

Sherlock nodded as he felt John clench, and used his other hand to put lube on his member, before slowly entering John. He groaned in ecstasy and kissed John. "Oh my god... John!" He panted.

John was slightly delirious, overwhelmed with all the sensations of pleasure. He kissed Sherlock fiercely as he clenched around his hard, throbbing member, and whined softly as he pushed against and away from it, trying to encourage a rhythm. He moaned a little as Sherlock started up. "Ahh... Yes, so good, Sherlock, keep going..." 

Sherlock gasped and started to slide in and out of John, swearing under his breath. "God you're fucking perfect..." he moaned, "Keep doing that and I won't last long..." he panted out, holding John's member and stroking him quickly. 

"That's.. My intention..." John said breathlessly, thrusting himself, into air, moaning loudly at the touch of Sherlock's fingers. Oh god, the man was driving him to the edge, "I want to... Sherlock... Ahh..."

Sherlock's brain was overrun with pleasure, "John!" he gasped out "Tell me, oh god..." he moaned, speeding up a little.

"T-tell you..?" John let out a loud grunt, as he reached towards it. Felt like Sherlock was going to rip him into half, good god, it was fantastic! He felt the pressure building up inside himself, "I think-"

"So close John! Ah my god!" He moaned. He wanted to push John over the edge with him, kissing him hard before moving to his scar.

"I know..." He groaned louder than before as he felt Sherlock move to his scar, and he felt touch upon it, the darting of a tongue. That combined with the sensation of Sherlock pulling in and out of it, teasing his cock with his slender fingers made John want to scream out. He was right at the edge, his whole frame shaking violently as he prepared to come.   
The vibrations John was making finally pushed him over the edge, and Sherlock came hard. "Oh god John!" He shuddered as he felt the wave of pure bliss. "Come for me, John." He murmured.

John didn't need to be asked, he was so close and Sherlock getting his release just drove him mad with pleasure, "Okay, okay- Ah, Sherlock!" He yelled out, his voice cracking as he held his lover close, a shudder passing through his spine as he came, his vision fading for a moment as he felt utter relief and pleasure collide in his very being. 

Sherlock kissed him through it and collapsed next to him, panting. "So beautiful..." he grinned. “That. Was. Amazing.” He turned to John and kissed his forehead.

John chuckled, leaning in to him, kissing the hollow of his neck as he hummed tiredly, also trying to get his breath back, "It was. Absolutely incredible."

Sherlock smiled lazily, "We definitely have to do this again some other time." He giggled, still in post-orgasmic state. They lay there for a few minutes, just enjoying each other.

"Some other time may be sooner than you think," John murmured drowsily, drunk on the pleasure of his lover's company, and supreme bliss of his orgasm. Then he started giggling, softly. "And you've never done that before?" 

Sherlock grinned and put his head next to John's. "Nope." He popped the p. "God knows why not." He chuckled.

"I know," John looked at him through slitted eyes, yawning as he chuckled, "'Cause you were waiting for me, of course."

Sherlock kissed him again and smiled. "Yes, but it was worth it." He stroked John's neck and murmured "Sleep, love. I'll stay here..." he closed his own eyes.

"You better," came the slurred reply as John curled around him, their bare, sweaty bodies rubbing against each other as he gave in to post coital exhaustion and fell into the land of sleep, his eyes closing fully as his breathing evened out.

Sherlock sighed happily and admired John sleeping. He felt a sudden wave of pure affection and whispered, “I love you.” Before he closed his eyes, and slowly succumbed to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *screeches* nearly 4000 hits and 100 kudos ahhhhh I love you all <3  
> I have had a very busy week, I've done my french and my german speaking oral and my english Romeo and Juliet essay, so I am languaged out XD  
> It's not "too" descriptive sexyness but have this :)  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

John woke the next day, feeling well and truly contented, but slightly sticky as well. He tried to stretch, his back arching as he did, as he let out a little noise, mindful of the sleeping Sherlock beside him. He kissed his jugular, the top of his head brushing against the other man's chin, as he watched him sleep. 

Sherlock stirred but didn’t wake up, taking a big breath and exhaling forcefully through his nose. He curled up into the warmth where John was and smiled.

John traced the hollows of his cheek, smiling up at him as well, his gaze tender. He glanced over at the bedside table, his gaze falling on the digital clock there. Shit, work, he'd be late if he continued to laze in bed with his lover. 

Sherlock woke up as he felt the change in weight on the bed as John slid off. He yawned widely and sat up, stretching his arms out. He groaned as his back clicked and looked at John, smiling sleepily. “Morning, John.” He said gruffly.

John leant down, smiling distractedly now, as he kissed his lover's head, "Morning, Sherlock." he murmured, a little guilty for waking him, "Go back to sleep, love." He reached over and tugged the blanket higher, patting the man's body through it, the smile on his face now soft and warm. 

Sherlock nodded and closed his eyes, laying back on the pillow and leaning into John’s touch. “Work?” He said quietly.

"Yeah," John sighed, moving to stroke his hair, looking rather miserable about it as well, "I'll see you for lunch, don't forget. And don't burn this place down while I'm gone." 

Sherlock nodded and opened his eyes again, “I won’t, for either.” He smiled. “Have a good day, love.” He kissed John’s hand gently.

"Thanks... can't be a good day without you there." John chuckled, "I'll be off then." He leaned down to kiss his lips a last time, a quick peck before he moved away, dressing quickly and heading to the bathroom to shave and use the toilet. Then he moved down to make toast, and drink a cup of tea for breakfast, grabbing his bag as he made to leave. 

Sherlock appeared just as John grabbed his bag, swamped in the bedsheet. “Bye, John.” He said, hiding his sadness at his love’s departure. He gave him a small wave and shuffled over to him to kiss him a final goodbye. “Have fun with the ill people.” He chuckled.

John made it a long one, his fingers winding into his hair before pulling away, "I'll try to... don't get too bored, alright? Text me if you can, I'll try to reply. And do go back to sleep. Bye!" He tugged at the sheet playfully before he headed out the door, closing it gently behind him. 

Sherlock grinned and nodded, watching as John left, before shuffling to the window and waving him goodbye. He sighed through his nose and plonked down on the sofa. He decided to text Mycroft and inform him of the good news, although the creepy bastard probably knew already.

I'd like to tell you that it worked, and we are now together –SH

Yes, I am aware. Congratulations, brother. Now make sure not to mess this up. -MH 

John was quite cheerful on his way to work, whistling and even giving some change to the homeless people lying about. His good mood continued despite the number of patients on his list that day, and he got ready to meet the first patient of the morning with a smile on his face. Sherlock rolled his eyes and chose not to reply, instead texting John.

A lot of patients today? Bored already -SH

Yeah, apparently there's a bug going around, and another doctor took the day off, so I've got his share as well... Maybe check the website for cases? –JW

Sounds boring. I will. –SH

It's not too bad, I've got lunch to look forward to (: tell me if there's anything interesting-JW 

You and your love of food ;) I found one case about someone claiming to have seen a ghost -SH

You know it's not the food I'm looking forward to... ;) And? -JW 

Ha ;) well she's saying it was grandfather who'd died 4 years previously, but he wasn't really dead and was just trying to drive her to suicide in order to receive her money. Bit not good. -SH

God.. that's awful, the things people do for money.. :( I'm glad you've solved it though... tell me how later, I'm sure you were brilliant as always. –JW

I’m bored again though ); Shall I make us a celebratory song on the Strad? –SH

If the inspiration strikes you... you'll have so much to share with me during lunch. –JW

If I finish it by then, I’ll play it to you –SH

Lovely... lunch will be back at the flat then? –JW

Sure, I’ll fix something up. –SH 

He shouted down the stairs, “Mrs Hudson! I need something nice for lunch!”

Remember when you said you wouldn't burn the flat? -JW

The woman came up the stairs, looking at him with exasperated fondness, "What am I supposed to do it about it, Sherlock?" She came in, tidying up a bit, "Not your housekeeper."

Sherlock rolled his eyes before replying.

Yes yes, I promised not too... –SH

He looked at Mrs Hudson with a wicked grin and said “I know, but your cooking’s so nice, I thought John would like something nice.” He knew how to press her buttons and judging by her smile, he was through.

Hmm... You could always get someone to deliver you know. Or we could pick up something on the way back...-JW

"Flattery will get you nowhere, young man." She pretended to scold, but there was a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her lips, "Well, quick. What do you want for lunch?"

Sherlock grinned and stood up to kiss her on the cheek. “Something quick will do.” He returned to his phone and sent back a reply.  
No, I’ll find something. I’ll meet you there at lunch, and then come home. –SH

"Shall I set the table too?" She teased, "Get you two a candle? You know I will be telling all this to Mrs Turner, right? She'll want to know." 

Alright. I've got to go, next patient. See you then. -JW

Sherlock groaned and suck his face in his hands. “No candles, no.” He felt the buzz of his phone and felt disappointment as John had to leave.

Alright, I’ll see you at lunch –SH 

"Alright, alright." Mrs Hudson patted his shoulder, "I'll get it all sorted out for you." She practically floated out of the room, off to prepare the food.

Sherlock nodded his thanks and dropped his phone on the sofa and walked into his room to get dressed. He put on the purple shirt he knew John liked, and a pair of tight black trousers, preparing to look his best for his new lover.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

"Just take these twice a day, and you should be as right as rain." John wrote out the prescription for her, "If the symptoms, persist, come back here and I'll try for a stronger dose." He smiled and waved at the last patient before letting out a breath, reclining back in his chair. Finally, it was lunch. He smiled a little to himself, looking to his computer screen.   
Sherlock grabbed his coat, phone and wallet before hailing a taxi to go to John's practise.

John was sitting in his chair, trying to update his blog, when he heard a knock on the door. He smiled, having guessed who it was. "Come on in..." 

Sherlock walked in slowly, smiling at John. "Good afternoon, John. Survived the multiple plagues?" He chuckled, leaning down to kiss him on the head.

"Yep." John looked up at him, smiling widely, before standing, shrugging off his white coat. "And you? Survived your boredom?" 

Sherlock grinned, helping John take off the coat. "Just about. A nice lunch is waiting at home."

"Courtesy of Mrs Hudson," John laughed, "But this is nice... really nice. Thank you," He says sincerely, turning off his computer and moving to the door, waiting for Sherlock to catch up, "Shall we, then?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Yes, but if I tried to cook, I’d burn down the flat. I can’t keep two promises.” He looked and John as he caught up and smiled softly. “I’m glad.”

John offered him his hand to hold, almost shyly, "So am I..." He let out a happy laugh, "It's great to be able to go back home during this time, it feels fantastic." He chuckled, "Ah, then I'll be called back to deal with a burning flat." 

Sherlock took his hand and walked out side by side with John, swinging their arms slightly. He laughed and sighed. "Maybe, I'll keep the burning to a minimum." He winked.

"Liar..." John laughed, not believing him for a second. "It'll be the fourth fire related incident we've had; I'm surprised we're not evicted." He looked down at their hands, feeling a glow of happiness. "So what did you do in the morning, other than not set the place on fire?"

Sherlock grinned at John, proud he’d got such a brilliant boyfriend. “Well, I badgered Mycroft for a bit, played the Strad, badgered Mrs Hudson, waited for you...” He smiled, leaning down to kiss John again.

John basked in his smile, seeming to revel in his attention. "Normal day then," he chuckled, accepting the kiss, keeping it chaste, but enjoying it. "I'm afraid that might be most mornings for you, if you have no cases..." 

Sherlock whined. “I know, I’m going to die of boredom! My brain will rot!” He paused dramatically. “I’ll become like Mycroft!” He pulled a horrified face before collapsing into giggles.

"Ah, and that's the worst." John laughed along with him, rolling his eyes as well, "Now that will do will it, we must save your brain... Come here. I think you need a doctor." He chuckled at the cheesy line, then offered him a kiss. 

Sherlock smirked. "Perhaps I do..." He kissed John on the lips before smiling proudly at him, hailing a cab as they reached the edge of the road.

John seemed to revel under his gaze, glowing slightly with happiness as he climbed into the cab, "221B Baker Street please." He said happily, watching Sherlock join him.  
Sherlock grinned at John and pulled him closer to wrap an arm around him. “What do you want to do after lunch?” 

"Hmm." John shrugged, smiling up at him, "I will probably still have some time to kill, maybe we could watch something, or just laze around." he laughed, "Too boring?" 

Sherlock smiled widely, letting his happiness show. "Whatever you want, I'm pretty sure I owe you one." He chuckled. 

"Hm? Owe me one?" John asked curiously. "Or we could go to the park again, if you like... You love that place." 

Sherlock grinned at the idea. "Yes, for helping me when I was having a little problem." He smirked. "The park would be lovely. And remember next year we're going to see the last hobbit movie. I might even feel sad at the end." He chuckled. 

"Next year... I will definitely feel sad at the end!" John protested, "Every character I like dies... well, most of them die." He pouted for a bit, "The park it is then, I think you're too big to climb the tree anymore." He coloured a bit, "Always willing to help." 

Sherlock nodded in agreement. "Thorin was my favourite. Just a bit." He chuckled. "I know you are." He pecked John on the cheek and flashed a grin at him. 

"I liked Kíli." John grinned sheepishly, "Alright, alright. Let's head out?" He offered him a hand, "To the park?"

"Kíli and Master Boggins." He giggled. The cab stopped and Sherlock paid, taking John's hand and stepping outside. "To the park."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo :) A massive thank you for all the kudos and comments, you guys are amazing :D  
>  Also to Fandom_Fan, I've started to write the mini fic, so it should be up by the end of these school holidays :)  
> Happy Easter everyone, hope you enjoyed!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ice cream conversations.

"I thought you'd like the dragon." John chuckled, "You paid for the cab, I'll treat you to ice cream." 

"Smaug was amazing though, I have to admit the special effects were good. Another ice cream? I'm in heaven!" He swung their arms as they headed towards the park.

"You never told me you enjoyed ice cream so much!" John laughed, "What flavour would you like now?" He nodded his head, agreeing, "And he had a good voice actor too... He sounded like you!” 

"Ice cream was my childhood indulgence before I got taller." The corner of his mouth lifted up into a small smile. "Mint again. You?" He rubbed shoulders with John, nodding. "I hear he also did motion capture. You must look quite idiotic pulling all the different facial positions." He chuckled. "I suppose I was, yes." He chuckled. "I know, I would have loved to have done it. The body was incredibly detailed, did you know every single scale they animated was unique?" 

"Any photographs you care to show?" John asked, smiling before tilting his head. "Really? How do you even know this stuff..." He stood in line for the ice cream and placed their orders. "It must have took them ages to get it done." 

Sherlock snorted. "You don't want to see those!" He waited in line and smiled at a small child that had bumped to his trouser leg. "You learn new things every day, and the videos released on YouTube have small facts sometimes." He took their ice creams and John paid and sat down on a nearby bench. "That's why it took a year for the next film to be released."

"Kind of do, actually." John smiled at the child also, ah... It made him remember Sherlock as a child. Seemed like just yesterday. Or rather the day before. "I never knew you were so into the whole franchise, either... When will you stop surprising me?" He gave him a half smile before moving to sit on the bench. "Anything else you found out?"

Sherlock grimaced. "If you really want to see them, ask Mycroft. I've always liked the Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit. I also like Merlin and doctor who. It was a damn shame they stopped making Merlin though." He handed John his ice cream and had a lick of his own. "What about you?"

"I might." John shrugged, "Of course I watch Doctor Who... and you've introduced me to Hobbit... but I don't watch much else, I'm afraid." He took his own ice cream, biting into, then shivering at the cold that pierced him, pulling a face. "Not Mrs Hudson's cup of tea." And he often watched programs with her anyway. 

Sherlock grinned. "Everyone British watches Doctor Who, even Mycroft." He laughed. "Here, I'll warm you up." He kissed John. "Minty." He smiled, before wrapping an arm around him and resting his head on John's shoulder. 

"Even Mycroft?" John chuckled, "How does he find the time?" He laughed at that, tapping his nose, "Minty as well... I wonder why." He joked, before leaning in closer to him, sighing contentedly. 

Sherlock chuckled deeply. "He doesn't actually do anything; it's all Anthea's work. He has all the time in the world." Sherlock smelt John's hair and smiled lazily. "You smell like jam. It's nice." 

"Hm? Really?" John was surprised to know that, "And he spends half that time looking after you I supposed." John smiled, "It seems I am entirely made of jam. Don't go using me for an experiment now, mind you." 

Sherlock smirked. "Yes, and you. I force him to do that now." He licked John's neck slowly. “So it seems. I might just have to eat you up..." He grinned. 

"Keep him busy... But we are both very hard to take care of." He shivered, looking around furtively as his cheeks turned a faint pink. "Again, I never knew you to be fond of jam." 

Sherlock hummed. “Yes, but we live the exciting life. He does no legwork.” He looked at John and smiled. “You’re adorable when you blush. And jam is nice, I have a sweet tooth.”

"True." John grinned, "Bet he has his hands full looking after us though." He ducked his head, "I'm not... And I'm not blushing. It is... No stealing my jam!" He laughed. "But you can eat me... I think that's fine." 

“Then how do you explain the sudden redness in your cheeks? Jam?” Sherlock teased playfully.”I’d never steal your jam, I know my boundaries. Anyway, I’m sure that’s cannibalism.” He chuckled. 

"Yes... I'm turning into jam, oh no." John stuck out his tongue, "Are you sure about that... I recall you storing toes in them once!" He laughed, "That is true... Don't think it'll stop you, though." 

Sherlock smirked. “Still think it’s adorable. True, true, you’re just too delicious.” He grinned and rubbed John’s arm, pulling him closer still. 

"It isn't." John pouted, before laughing, "Love, there are children here." But still he leaned his head on Sherlock's shoulder. 

Sherlock shrugged lightly. “Whatever you say, John...” He rested his head on top of John’s before taking a lick of his melting ice cream. “It’s not like they have supersonic hearing.” He smirked. 

"How do you know?" John asked, looking up to him, ice cream smeared over his mouth, "Be careful what you say, love... what if they think you're a cannibal?" He laughed. 

Sherlock grinned. “I hardly think they’ll even understand what cannibalism is at their age.” He chuckled. “I like that. When you call me love. You need a nickname now. Isn’t that right,” honey? He tried to keep a straight face but burst into fits of laughter. “Oh no, not honey. Something less... Gooey.” 

John pulled a face, "Love, love, love." He chanted, "Honey is just awful... makes it sound like I'm some sort of doting wife..." He shuddered, "Think then, detective." he tapped his nose, "Yes, but I'm sure you of all people would be more than eager to introduce it to them." 

Sherlock laughed. “Agreed. Maybe, old man.” He joked. “I’ll have to think later, now I am enjoying all of this.” He gestured around himself. He thought for a second and had a lick of his ice cream. “Hot stuff? Babe? Handsome?” 

John snorted, biting into his ice cream, "I am not hot stuff nor am I handsome," he giggled, "Babe? Seriously?" He shook his head, "I don't need a nickname, love... you on the other hand..." 

Sherlock grinned. “Maybe not the best of choices. But don’t lie to yourself John Watson, you be smokin’.” He snorted, wiping his eyes. “I guess not, my dear doctor. I’ve already been labelled then.” He laughed. 

"I be smoking?" John raised an eyebrow before letting out a surprised laugh. "Yes you have, love..." He grinned, "Just use your massive intellect and think of something good. And appropriate." 

Sherlock giggled. "Yep. Well, I'll dig around later." He finished his ice cream and threw the napkin in the bin next to the bench. "You ready?" 

John popped the last of his ice cream into his mouth, doing the same as he stood, "Yeah..." He smiled, the sunlight illuminating his eyes, making them seem brighter. "What do you want to do now? I should probably have to head back soon..." 

Sherlock took John's hand, admiring his lover. "I don't mind." His smile fell a little as he knew John soon had to leave, but hid his disappointment. "Just don't catch any of the sick people's colds. I hear doctor's make the worse patients." He joked. "Home?" 

"Alright." John let out a laugh, tilting his head back, "And if I catch it, I'll probably pass it on to you. Haven't you heard? Detectives make even worse patients." He swung their hands, "Could you accompany me there then?" As though sensing the disappointment, he asked suddenly. "If you haven't anything else to do." 

Sherlock scrunched up his face. “I am not getting ill just because of them. I did before when you came home and got chicken pox.” His face lit up at the idea. “Of course, Lestrade hasn’t informed me on new cases and it prevents me from murdering Mycroft by poisoning his cake.” 

"Everyone gets chickenpox once in their life." John said sensibly, "Better sooner than later. Admit it though. You enjoyed being fussed over." Sherlock's expression made him smile. "Glad to save Mycroft's life then. Please don't terrorize the nurses." 

Sherlock grinned sheepishly. “I suppose. Especially as you came into my bedroom a lot.” He chuckled. “I won’t, although I will need some entertainment.”

"Yeah..." John pretended to grumble. "And fed you soup." He raised an eyebrow, smiling. "No terrorizing patients either... What entertainment would you like?" 

"It was good soup though." He pointed out, hailing a cab. "Something not terribly mind-numbing would be greatly appreciated." 

"I'm sure it was..." John laughed, holding the door open for Sherlock. "You could help me diagnose patients. Just diagnose. Not deduce.” 

Sherlock nodded. "I could so that..." If he could restrain himself for three hours, he might get a reward later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH I LOVE YOU ALL!  
> Also I have a boyfriend!!!!!!!!!  
> And I got my first kiss :D  
> Basically this means I'm happier and more likely to write :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the Doctor's surgery.

"Really..." John said dubiously. "If you get me fired love you're finding me another job." 

Sherlock snorted. “You don’t need a job, I could pay for both of us plus a Ferrari if I really wanted to!” He climbed into the cab, giving the address of the surgery.

John scoffed, "And what would we do with a Ferrari here? Neither of us can drive..." He rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to be your stay home... Whatever. I like having a job, I don't want to live off you." 

Sherlock nodded. "I suppose so." He paused and clapped his hands together. "I just realized we never actually had lunch!" 

"Hm?" John tilted his head. "Oh! Lunch, right... Mrs Hudson's food will go to waste..." He pouted. "And you have missed yet another meal... Not like you can afford to."

Sherlock nodded: if he texted her she'd probably eat it. "I'm a healthy weight..." he scowled. “Yeah, but you don't look it... all skin and bones..."

John licked his lips, "Or we could trouble her to bring it... no." He shook his head, "She's better off at home." he smiles, "So I guess this is... bring your child to work day?' He teased. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I have a high metabolism. And I'm not sure she ever leaves her flat except to do shopping every week." He smiled."Not anymore." He said, slapping John playfully on the arm. 

"And to meet those strange bachelors... Like the last one you said was cheating." John remembered. "Still, sometimes it worries me to see you so thin." John raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Are you sure? My child is right here!" 

Sherlock chuckled. “Oh god, him! I’ve seen criminals with more table manners!” He mirrored John’s action, raising his own eyebrow. “I am fine. If I wasn’t, do you think I of all people wouldn’t know? And I am not a child. Only Mummy’s. Who you still have to meet, by the way. It’s a Holmes tradition. Never pleasant.”

"I never even saw him once," John laughs. "Oh you'd know, but you wouldn't say ‘It's fine John, I don't eat on a case John, the body is just transport John’" He mimicked. “You are a child, maybe not my child, but a child nonetheless. Oh... And how many boyfriends have you introduced so far..?"

"I know you didn't, I threw him out for her. He dropped her favourite plate and hell broke loose. It was hilarious." He giggled. Sherlock quietened. "It's not like it's important. It's only food. Besides, I still eat." He smiled. "I am definitely not your child. If I was, I'd be more polite and my gorgeous hair would be gone." He smirked. "A grand total of none. You will be my first. Even Mycroft has introduced one! Though I'm not sure Lestrade counts..." He trailed off quickly, thinking. 

"Bet it was." John agreed, "It's not only good, it's good you need to live..." He nudged him. "Oi, what did you say about my hair?" He raised an eyebrow again, unable to help his surprise. "Mycroft introduced Greg to your mum? As his boyfriend? What happened then?” 

Sherlock grinned. "Never mind. Your hair is fine; it's just I like my hair." He nodded. "I know, there are just some things I can't delete. Unfortunately that is one of them." He frowned. "They're still dating, they started when Greg ended it with his wife. I don't even want to know how they met." He cringed. 

"Well, fine." John said grudgingly, ruffling his hair, "I like your hair as well. Don't delete it." He warned, before laughing. "Maybe they met through you... Probably. So what happened, when Greg met your mum?" 

Sherlock chuckled deeply, kissing John’s hair. “I like your hair. I’m glad.” Sherlock groaned. “Oh god, it was awful. She made the family crest onto a pie and then they ‘shared’ it, “He quoted, “But really Mycroft ate ninety percent of it. And the constant kissing! We have to get them back, John!”

"Good..." John laughed, "But how is your mother? As a person... should I be nervous?" He chuckled, "How, exactly? Constant kissing?" He leaned forward as the cab stopped to pay. "When will this meeting be?" 

Sherlock smiled fondly. "No, she's nice. Scatty, as smart as me. Smaller, but isn't everyone." He joked. "They just constantly had each other’s tongues in their mouths." He scrunched up his face in disgust. "Whenever you want. We could go this weekend if needs be." 

"She does sound like a good person." John smiled, as he finished paying, opening the door on his side and stepping out. "Well, how do you want to best that..?" He shrugged, "I don't mind, it would be nice to see your old home and meet your mum." 

"She is." He climbed out after John. "We could go further." He winked, chuckling. "Well, they're in Sussex, so it's a while away. I get to meet your parents too. And possibly Harry?" He questioned: maybe seeing her wasn't such a good idea. 

"No... not in front of your mother!" John laughed, shaking his head as he walked down the pavement, "Ah, we can still make it if we head out tomorrow... Mm, sure, possibly." He agreed vaguely, holding the door open for Sherlock. 

Sherlock grinned. "Lord no!" He clambered out ungracefully and shut the door. "If you want. We don't have to, if you don't want to." He rushed after John, to hold his hand as they walked in. 

"It will leave a lasting impression for sure." John shrugged, "I don't mind making the trip..." His eyes left Sherlock. "You could meet Harry." He brightened up. "She's doing good now, working at some law firm... Her and Clara are back, it's great..." John smiled at Sarah who approached them. "Hello! I'm back." 

Sherlock shook his head, laughing. “I’ll get Mycroft to send us a car.” He also brightened as John appeared happier. “Sure, if she can make it. That’s good.” He looked at Sarah, slightly jealous that she had dated John long before he hand. Sarah smiled at them. 

“Finally got together then?” She laughed, winking a Sherlock. Sherlock smiled sweetly, masking his jealousy.

"Will he be coming with us then? Him and Greg?" John asked. "Yeah, I'll email her about it." He smiled at Sarah, squeezing Sherlock's hand. "Yeah, yeah we did. Returning to my post now... Could he help me bring up my patient list for the rest of today? Thanks."

Sherlock nodded, rolling his eyes. "Unfortunately." He turned his attention back to Sarah while returning the squeeze. He did his best puppy eyes at her, until she caved in. 

"Oh all right, you can help. But if you annoy any of my patients," she pointed at Sherlock, "you are not helping again." 

Sherlock nodded sincerely. "I won't, I've already been warned." He budged John with his elbow.

"And rightly so," John chuckled. "Come on then." He pulled him along, waving to Sarah, as he opened the door to his office. He settled in a nice desk chair, at his table which had a plaque reading Dr John H. Watson. 

Sherlock followed him, and observed the room they entered. "Fancy. I was wrong, don't leave this place. It's perfect." He grinned. "Who first?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smallish chapter today, we haven't been writing too much as I haven't had the time to contact her, but the next one will be longer with smut.
> 
> Over 5000 hits I seriously died and went to Heaven <3 
> 
> My Tumblr is http://hmsjohnlocked.tumblr.com/ if you're interested :)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT AHEAD. John and Sherlock examine patients and each others bodies.

"It's very nice, for a small clinic." John laughed, straightening the frame on his table, one of him and Sherlock that Mrs Hudson snapped last Christmas. "A Mrs Devonshire... Could you call the patient, nurse?" He asks sweetly. 

Sherlock made a noise of agreement, nodding slowly. He scowled at being called nurse, but complied, coming back with a little woman about 50 years old. Sherlock had his 'client' smile on, faking a positive attitude but really he was excited to watch John work. 

"Hi, hello." John smiled warmly at her, now completely focused, "I'm Doctor Watson, how can I help you today?" He peered at her kindly. "Oh, and this is Sherlock. He's an... Intern, who will be staying here to learn, I hope you don't mind." 

She smiled widely. “Hello, no no it’s fine. I remember when I was an intern.” She chuckled. “Good luck to you.” She said to Sherlock, who smiled in reply and stood in the corner.

"So what seems to be the problem?" John asked lightly, "Says here you've got a bit of cough." He stood, reaching for his stethoscope. "Let me listen to how bad it is..." He moved to place it on her chest, listening. "Now breathe, in and out... In and out..." 

She did as asked and let him examine her, while Sherlock decided he was bored already. “Have you had small bursts of coughs every five minutes or so, with wheezing?” He questioned. A small nod and smile was all the answer he needed. “Mrs Devonshire, you have acute bronchitis. It’ll last for a few days, but have some antibiotics to help clear it.” He looked at John. “Was I right?” 

"Yeah," John smiled at him, as if for a moment amazed, before shaking himself out of it, speaking. "You're right... He's very good, isn't he?" He asked the woman, sounding proud and affectionate, "I'll prescribe the antibiotics." 

Sherlock grinned hugely, his teeth flashing. The woman nodded and smiled. “If all doctors were like him, there’d be no need for a waiting room!” She laughed, clapping her hands together. The prescription was filled out just as quickly, and soon she said her thanks and left. 

As soon as she walked out the door, Sherlock turned to John with excitement in his eyes. “I’ve never actually done that before, can I do the next one?” He grinned, using puppy dog eyes. 

"Of course." it pleased John to see him so excited, he had the feeling Sherlock would be bored. "God, it feels like you're going to be the one behind this desk soon enough." He smiled, "Go on, call the next one in, would you?" 

Sherlock rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Thank you, John! I hope not, all the ill people would kill me." He laughed, going to get the next one and coming back with a small boy and his mother. 

"Hello." John smiled at the young boy, his tone changing to one he often used with younger patients. "How are we today..." he checked the file, "Matt?" he looked over to the mother, still smiling kindly, as he drew his hands together. 

The young boy looked at him and pointed at his ears. His mother launched into an explanation how he'd been swimming and now he couldn't hear anything. Sherlock looked at John, waiting for permission to do something. "Now? He mouthed. 

"Ah, I see." John spoke to the mother, nodding in understanding. "This is Sherlock, an intern here; I hope you don't mind him sitting in. Trust me, he is perfectly qualified. So Sherlock." John turned his blue eyes on him seriously. "What is your diagnosis?" 

Sherlock grinned as he grabbed the otoscope and looked in the boy’s ear. He put it down on the desk as deductions flew from his mouth. “You’ll probably need to go to A and E,” He said to the mother, “And book an appointment with the micro suction doctor at the ENT clinic. Bring chocolate as well, it’s not very nice but he’ll be able to hear again.” He knelt down to the boy’s height. “You don’t have to, but I’ve had it done and it’s very nice to hear again. They’ll put a tiny sucky tube in your ear and slurp it all out, and then you’ll be able to hear everything.” He smiled softly, standing up, turning to John again. 

John was smiling at him appreciatively. "He's right." He looked down, still smiling. "I can give you the number to a micro suction doctor, to get in touch and arrange the appointment," he told the mother, scribbling it down, before offering the boy a lollipop, smiling friendly. "Just to make him feel better, until then." He told the mother, smiling as he ruffled the boy's hair. "I'm sure everything will be fine." 

Sherlock grinned cockily. The two patients smiled, said thank you and left. “I’m getting good at this.” He slid round next to John and kissed him. “I’m doing all the work for you.” He laughed. 

"Sure you are." John rolled his eyes at him, kissing him back. "You have always been good at this, love." 

"I'm fabulous, me." He giggled. "Two patients down already, we're on fire." He grinned. "How many more to go?" 

John checked. "'Bout five." He laughed. "You going to handle all those as well? I'm liking this bring your child to work day concept." 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “John Hamish Watson, I am not you son.” He chuckled. “But if you want, yes I can.” 

"You could have been, a few days ago." He teased. "If you makes you happy, then." 

Sherlock groaned. “Joooohn, let it go! But yes, it does.” He kissed John on the nose and went to get the next patients.

"I will never let it go." John laughed, before watching him retrieve the patients. Just like that, five patients passed quickly, each time Sherlock's intellect astounding John, and impressing him. Each time his smile grew a fraction wider.

As soon as the last patient had left, Sherlock collapsed onto the examination bed and sighed deeply. “That was exhausting. How do you last every day?” 

John laughed, watching him. "How is it less tiring than crimes?" He moved to sit beside him, "Oh come on love, it's not that bad, I finish work AND go on chases with you." He shrugged, "You get used to it." 

Sherlock huffed out a laugh. "True. But that's mental exhaustion." He looked at John and grinned. "Then I guess you are extremely fit for your age." He chuckled, rolling away to miss the swat at his head made by John. "Care to examine one more patient?" He grinned devilishly. 

John huffed, before eyeing him coyly. "Ah, I don't know... I guess I could fit him in the schedule... go fetch him then, nurse." 

Sherlock put his hands up, grinning saying “He’s already here...” He reached up to kiss John.

"Mm," John kissed him back, winding his arms around his neck, "He's too pale... I think he needs a full body examination at least... agreed?" 

Sherlock grinned. “Agreed, my dear doctor.” He gestured to the door: the last thing either of them needed was someone walking in.

John huffed, but went to lock the door, leaning against it. "Well... what are you waiting for?" He tried to say sternly. "Come over here and get your examination done."

Sherlock eyes glistened as he took off his shirt. “Where do you want to start, doctor?” He said deeply.

John ran his hands down the front of Sherlock's chest, leaving them to rest on his hips. "Hmm..."

Sherlock let out a small moan. “Do you need my trousers off?” He said, his arms braced behind himself.

John pretended to arch an eyebrow, "Hmm.. yes.. it is a full body after all. Go on..." 

Sherlock barely contained his grin, sliding off his trousers but leaving his navy boxers on. "Well, doctor?" 

John's fingers hooked along the waistband of Sherlock's pants, as he smiled coyly. "Have a little patience, Mr Holmes..." 

Sherlock bit his lip and whimpered a little. "It's hard to when I have the most gorgeous specimen of man in front of me..." 

"I could really say the same..." John murmured, as he dipped his hand into Sherlock's pants, brushing against his erect member.

Sherlock groaned. "Sweet jesus hurry up or I am not going to last long." He growled, putting his hands behind John's neck.

"Impatient," John chided, before he leant closer, his hand wrapping around Sherlock's member, sliding up and down it. "It will be worth it."

Sherlock's eyes fluttered shut as he moaned in pleasure. "Oh, god. Do that again." 

John did, and he continued to do so, gaining speed, as he stroked Sherlock's balls, his forehead going to lean on his shoulder. 

Sherlock gritted his teeth and shivered at the pleasure. "John. So perfect. " He kissed John's cheek and neck, wanting to return some of the pure ecstasy.

John shivered a little, before he continued to pump Sherlock's cock with his hand, thrusting back and forth himself also, instinctively.

Sherlock moaned. "God I'm close John." He continued sucking John's neck, trying to get him at the same stage.

John moaned softly, his hands working faster, his face flushed. "S-Sherlock..." 

Sherlock opened his eyes and kissed harder. “John, oh my god.” He came with a muffled shout as he clamped his hand over his mouth. He sagged against the wall and pulled John next to him to keep kissing him. “Time to return the favour...” He murmured happily.

John turned his head, his eyes glittering in the dim light, moving his hand away now, "Please." 

Sherlock grinned and whispered throatily in his ear, “Tell me what you want, John.” He continued kissing his neck and opened John’s trousers, pulling them down along with his pants. 

"You, you, only you..." John babbled, his breathing hitching, his eyes brightening as his pupils dilated fully, "Just you, please..." 

Sherlock smiled affectionately, before laying John back and saying "I want to try something..." He took John's member in his mouth, licking strips up it, receiving a moan. 

John's back arched further, he seemed to be thrusting into Sherlock's mouth as he moaned loudly, "Jesus fucking Christ..." He panted.

Sherlock coughed but took him deeper, taking pleasure from the noises John was making. He hummed around him, sending vibrations as waves of ecstasy.

His fingers wound themselves into his hair, fisting it as he moaned obscenely, louder, as though knowing the effect it had on Sherlock. "Sh-Sher... I think I'm gonna..."

Sherlock moaned as he felt John's hands on his head. He took him all the way and swallowed, sucking even harder. He looked into John's eyes and hummed again.

It drove John so insane, made him tremble with pleasure, and he was so very sure it was what would push him over the edge. He watched Sherlock bob up and down, the pressure building up in him until he couldn’t bear it. He came shouting Sherlock's name, his head thrown back.

Sherlock swallowed John's load and kept sucking, drawing out the pleasure as long as he could. He rubbed John's thigh and grinned up at him, pulling off. "Well that was fun." He said hoarsely. 

"Fun?" John leant against the wall, his eyes bright and cheeks red. "That was brilliant." 

Sherlock stood up, smiling. “I should hope so.” He helped John pull up his trousers and pants, smoothing them down and licking his lips. “We should probably get going.” He chuckled. 

John looked up, nearly bumping his head on Sherlock's chin. "Yeah." He wetted his lip. "Safe to assume shift is over." 

Sherlock slipped on his coat and held out his hand. "Let's go, then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are glorious. I love you all <3  
> I realise I didn't update yesterday, sorry, but here's an extra long chapter :)  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way to Angelo's.

"Home?" John asked, taking his hand, wrapping his fingers around it. 

Sherlock nodded, giving it a squeeze and opening the door. "Sure, if you want. Do we need anything?"

"Don't think so." John smiled, "Maybe grab something on the way back for dinner? Or we could reheat lunch..." He pulled Sherlock out the door, smiling at Sarah. "Well, I'm off then." He told her cheerfully. 

Sherlock nodded. "Or go to Angelo’s. We have the time now. And the candle." He joked. "Heterosexual my arse." He waved goodbye to Sarah, who returned it with a small smile. 

"Have fun!" 

"Sure," John laughed, "You want the candle that badly?" He waved, "See you!" As he pulled Sherlock out the door.

Sherlock followed him, a grin plastered to his face. “No, but the sentiment of it is nice.” 

"Okay then," John laughed, turning to him. "We'll get as many candles as you like." 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and chuckled with him. “One will suffice.” He hailed a taxi with his free hand and waited on the pavement. 

"We could have the whole table filled with candles, if you like." John offered, grinning as he came to stand by him. "I think this, and our rooms are the only things that have changed... We're pretty much the same. No wonder people mistook us for a couple so often." 

Sherlock snorted. “I think we’d then have no place to eat though, John.” He laughed. “Yes, I suppose. That and the looks though. By the way, do you want me to move to your room, or you come to mine? Mine’s a double bed.” 

"Eat in our laps." John says simply, before laughing as well, "The looks? I don't mind moving into yours; it's closer to the living room anyway... It means we have a spare room."

Sherlock shook his head with a laugh. "Maybe. You know, when we just looked at each other, not saying anything, and people just assumed we were together. Closer indeed, closer to the food." He joked, poking John in the stomach gently. "A spare room for experiments?" He said hopefully.

"Oh!" John understood, "Right, that... It has changed, has it?" He pouted, before laughing, "No! Not at all, hmm." He grinned, "Okay, if it'll keep you from wrecking the kitchen." 

Sherlock grinned. “We still have the look, but now we know what it means.” He kissed John with a massive smile. “Oh thank you John! We could get a new table then! And all the shelves for the bottles...” His eyes shone, his mind now racing at the thought of a mini lab in the flat. 

John nodded, kissing him back, his hand going to cup his cheek as he stood on his tip toes. It made him happy to see Sherlock so excited about it, he squeezed his hand. "We can go check out stuff for your new lab." He suggested. 

Sherlock made a small noise from within his chest, and sighed happily. “You certainly know the way to a man’s heart.” He chuckled contently.

"What, through his love of science?" John chuckled, "Nah, I just know you." He saw a cab and flagged it down, holding the door open for Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded with a sly smile, climbing in. “Definitely.” He told the cabbie the address and pulled John in next to him. “Have anything you want tonight. I realise I owe you more than I can give.” He smiled, leaning his head on John’s. 

John shook his head, "You owe me nothing." He leaned on him, "But you always let me have anything I want." He kissed his cheek, "See, nothing much has changed." He paused. “So? What are the ideas for the new lab?" He asked patiently. 

Sherlock smiled and closed his eyes for a second. “I’m glad. Well, if we move the kitchen table into your room, which can be the experiment table, so we’ll get a new one. I can store all the old beakers and chemicals on your endless shelves, maybe hang up the periodic table on the wall. It’s going to be amazing, John.” He breathed cheerfully. “Just think of all space!”

"I'd like a new kitchen table." John agreed, before smiling as well, watching him, "I can see it, your lab... Yes," he murmured, "It sounds perfect love. Let's go ahead with that plan.” Sherlock nodded. “It’s a deal, then.” He opened his eyes and looked at John. “Anything you want?”

"Hm?" John seemed surprised at being asked, even. "You mean apart from being allowed into the room, and having the room in one piece? Nothing, no." 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “The kitchen is in one piece. Granted, there are some scratches and acid burns but if you’re no longer using it, it’ll be fine.” He chuckled. “You can come in, but only if you bring tea.” He laughed. 

"What about the time you set fire to it and we had to call the fire department?" John asked, "or the time you caused all those toxic fumes and we had to get those men to come sort it out and cordon off the place for what, a month?" He raises an eyebrow, "Doesn’t sound like it’s in one place to me, does it?" He pouted, "Fine." 

Sherlock grinned wildly. “Oh I remember that. That was hilarious John! Not so much the toxic fumes though... I’m joking, of course you can come in, it’s not like I could stop you anyway.” 

"It was hardly hilarious... You were so sulky when Mrs Hudson nagged your ear off." He laughed. "Good, yes, I'd end up kicking the door down, so not much you can do about that."

Sherlock smirked. "Yes, but her face!" He laughed. "I'd much prefer a door, thank you." He hummed, grinning.

"I think I gave her a run for her money." John laughed, "Open it for me, then I'll consider letting you keep it." 

Sherlock shook his head with a smile. “Definitely.” He rubbed John’s arm. “Alright, but no ruining experiments.” 

John nudged him, grinning, "I'll ruin the ones involving you stealing my things. Or wasting milk. And jam. Fair enough?" 

Sherlock chuckled. "Alright then, fair enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeeeeee I had a date yesterday so I couldn't update sorry but asdfghjklqerkuyerta he's so adorable :3  
> Thank you again for all these lovely kudos and comments, and jesus the hits <3  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An experiment begins.

The cab stopped outside Angelo's and Sherlock whipped out his wallet and paid. He spotted Angelo in the window waving, and climbed out with John.

John waved back, as he took Sherlock's hand again, with ease, and pulled him into the restaurant. "I didn't realise I was starving," he laughed. 

Sherlock grinned. “Me too, for once.” He greeted Angelo with a smile and grimaced when he was enveloped in a huge hug. “Yes, hello Angelo.” He patted his back awkwardly and looked to John for help. 

John hid some giggles into the palm of his hand before he finally intervened. "So, Angelo... Any specials today?" He distracted the man.

Angelo withdrew from the hug and sat them at a table. “Congratulations! Well, there’s spaghetti, but anything you want I can do for you.” He grinned. 

"Spaghetti is fine." John said hastily, "What about you love?" He asked Sherlock, "I'm alright with just spaghetti."

Sherlock nodded gratefully. “Me too, thanks Angelo.” He grinned at him solidly until he left and turned his attention to John. “So, Mr Watson,” He smiled, “what shall we do after?”

"Whatever you like." John smiled, "I don't have anywhere to be.. Just as long as I can be by your side."

Sherlock grinned cheesily. “My dearest Jahn,” He put on a thick American accent and hid his giggles, “I would be delighted to take you home and stay with y’all night.” He laughed. “But seriously, let’s just relax after all this kerfuffle.” He said normally, rubbing his hand along John’s arms. 

That made John laugh, a clear sound, "Alright, uh, stranger american man, I don't mind." He winked, before nodding, laughing a little still, "Yup, home sounds good... not too boring then?" he teased. 

Sherlock licked his lips and smiled. “Whatever you want, honey. Oh god, not honey, nope.” He wrinkled his nose in mock disgust. “You are not honey, you’re far more delicious...” He said deeply, winking back. 

John chuckled, raising an eyebrow, "More delicious than honey? Are you sure, love?" 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and pretended to think. "Hmm, maybe not quite." He chuckled. "Of course, you gorgeous man."

John laughed, "Oh, stop it you." He leaned back in his chair, watching Sherlock amusedly. 

Sherlock bit his lip and laughed, nodding as the food arrived. “Never.”

John picked up his fork, fiddling with it, as he smiled at him, flushing a little. 

Sherlock picked up his own and tried to delicately pick up the pasta, but ended up stabbing it with a scowl as it kept slipping off. “Bloody pasta.” He muttered. He saw John sniggering and chuckled with him. “There’s no good way to pick up spaghetti.” 

John tried, inserting the fork and twirling it, succeeding in picking it up before giving Sherlock a smug look, "Or maybe there's finally one thing you can't do elegantly, hm?" he teased. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes but smiled at him "You are teaching me how you do it so effortlessly, John." He laughed. "There are many things I can't do elegantly, but I haven't shown them all yet." He said amusedly. 

"I suppose I'll find them out soon enough," John laughed, starting to eat his pasta, "Anything particularly embarrassing?" 

Sherlock grinned. “No, thank god, just the small stuff.” 

"I'll be the judge of that," John laughed, "Do you think we should order some wine to drink?" he suggested. 

“John Watson, are you trying to get me drunk?” He winked. “Because that’s another one of my non-elegant things.”

"Maybe..." John grinned, "Fine, you caught me red handed... are you willing?" He leans forward, the candle illuminating his face, "It'll be... my little experiment."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I can’t deny you an experiment when I’ve tried so long to get you to do one... Fine.” He smiled, ordering a bottle.

"How many bottles do you need to get drunk?" John speculated, tilting his head at him, "Have you tried?" 

"Very few. Last time I think it was one." He smirked. "I tried once at Mummy's party, with very ugly results." 

"We shall see." John grinned, entertained, "Eat up, and I'll make sure you drink water during it so you won't get a hangover." 

“It’s on, John.” He dug into his pasta and nodded. “I know how to cure a hangover, I am an adult.” He smirked. 

"Are you now?" John looked bemused, "You weren't one three days ago." he laughed, before he watched the wine being served.

Sherlock sighed exasperatedly. "You are never going to let me live that down, are you?" He grabbed his wine glass and downed half of it in one.

"Never, not for all eternity!" John laughed, "You have to admit, it's gold. The day I manage to myself, then you can laugh. But now it's my turn." He watched him drink, smiling.

Sherlock huffed. "That could be arranged, you know. There's still some formula left..." He jokily threatened. "A child John, how adorable. Your jumpers would cover you whole body. They nearly do now." He grinned.

John rolled his eyes, "Drink your wine, Sherlock, before I pour it all over you." He smirked, "Not as adorable as how your coat could have been your blanket. The yard will love hearing about it." 

Sherlock smirked and knocked back the rest quickly, grimacing and looking at the bottle. "God that's sweet." He scowled at John's comment. "That would not be adorable. And please don't tell them, Sally would have even more ammunition." 

"Hmm." John leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands as he watched him, "It was adorable. You were adorable... but I won't tell... it's my private amusement." he laughed, looking away, as his thoughts drifted to how young Sherlock had been. 

Sherlock looked at him with an unamused expression and continued stabbing his pasta, muttering. "Not adorable." 

"It was..." John's eyes gained a dreamy sort of look, as he flashbacked to it, biting his lip, "I don't know... it just was." 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I need more wine..." He muttered, pouring some more wine into his glass. "You want some?" He gestured to John's glass. 

"Hm?" John asked distractedly, "Oh, yeah, alright. Not too much though, you're the one meant to be getting drunk here." 

"Well I hope it happens fast if I keep up like this." He smiled. 

"Yes." John shared his smile, sipping the wine, "It's not bad," he said, "Come on, cheers." He offered him his glass.

Sherlock snorted. “Cheers.” He filled John’s glass before clinking their glasses together, taking a mouthful.

John took a sip of his too, watching him over the mouth of his glass. 

Sherlock swallowed and cringed at the taste. "Should have gone with beer. But beer isn't very romantic." He laughed. 

John laughed, "I'm sure we have beer at home, if you're still up for it, after this." he drank more of his own, watching him pensively. 

Sherlock grinned crookedly. “Sure, although you’ll be paying for the consequences.” He pointed at John’s food with his index finger. “You should eat, John. I can’t have my blogger going hungry.” 

"A night of amusement? Hardly a consequence." John shook his head, before laughing, "Yes, alright, mum." he answered, as he tucked in again. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "No, I mean the morning after will be hell. Eat, my little Jawn." He giggled, having a bite off of his own plate.

"What happened to, 'I'm an adult, I know how to cure hangovers?'" John mimicked, shaking his head and laughing at him before eating, sipping his wine occasionally.

Sherlock looked to the ceiling with a ‘dear god help me’ look and replied, “I do, but sometimes my deductions can be a bit... bitchy. It’s why Sally doesn’t like me, well and the fact I can tell she’s shagging Anderson.” 

"Bitchy?" John chuckled at the word use, "Bitchier than usual, then?" He teased. 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and gasped. "Me, bitchy?" He chuckled. "But um, yes. A lot worse."

"We shall see then..." John smiled angelically, "If you get out of hand you can always sleep on the sofa for a month or two." 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I don’t think so.” He smiled. “You wanted to do this, you shall have to deal with it.” 

John pouted at him, "Fine... drink up then. Another bottle?" He offered. 

Sherlock grinned in victory and nodded. "Well, tonight won't be boring.” He chuckled, finishing his glass. 

"God, I hope not." John laughed, "It better be worth tomorrow morning." 

Sherlock grinned. “Yes, well don’t be offended, and if you are, just chuck water at me. I’ll stop.” He laughed. 

"I'll keep that in mind." John hummed, as he finished the last of his food. 

Sherlock finished his own and paid for their meals. “Home then?” He said, slipping on his coat.

"Yeah." John stood, doing the same, "We have more beers to help you on your way there..." 

Sherlock grinned. "Well then, we'd better go while I can still walk." He said, as he held the door open for John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a German exchange over for a week :D she bought me Haribo :3  
> Anyways, I love you guys all so much, thank you!
> 
> My Tumblr is http://hmsjohnlocked.tumblr.com/ if you're interested or want to request a fic :)  
> ((Fandom_Fan, it will come, I'm sorry I'm so slow))
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets bitchy.

John headed out, turning to smile at him as the wind tore at his hair, "Come on then, you drunk." 

Sherlock grinned and followed. “Coming, dearest.” He hailed a taxi and leant against John. "Mm, comfy."

John laughed, "You idiot..." He scolded fondly, wrapping an arm around him, drawing him close. 

Sherlock snorted, “Me an idiot?” He rested his head on John’s and hummed happily, climbing in and giving the address.

"You're always an idiot." John told him, smiling down at him before looking out the window. 

Sherlock grinned. “Yeah, but you love me.” He slid down sideways and shook his head. “I think I might be drunk, John. This hasn’t happened in a while.” 

John glanced at him, "That was the point.” he reminded, smiling a little. 

Sherlock paused and nodded. "Oh yeah!" He smiled back goofily. 

The cab stopped, John helped him out of the cab after paying, guiding him up the stairs. "Careful now..." 

Sherlock rolled his head to face John and snorted. "I am functioning perfectly! I don't need to be careful..." he waved a hand in protest. 

John scoffed, helping him sit on the couch, "If you say so, love..." 

Sherlock scowled. “I am! Don’t you trust me?” He raised an eyebrow. 

"I trust you... When you're sober." John laughed. "Now stop fidgeting." 

Sherlock pouted. "Fine, mother!" He sat on the sofa with a thump and crossed his arms. 

John rolled his eyes at him, shaking his head as he watched him. Drunk Sherlock seemed as though he was going through the teenage phase of his life. First a child now a teenager, John found himself amused to think that Sherlock was growing up, in a way. 

Sherlock stared at him moodily. "What now, John?!" 

"Nothing." John suppressed his smile. "You're a mean drunk, aren't you?" He laughed, his hand going to ghost Sherlock's shoulder. "Sulky baby." 

Sherlock grumbled lowly and reached for the remote, leaning subtly into John's arm. 

John laughed, plopping down beside him, his hand moving away, before it returned, resting lightly on Sherlock's lap. 

Sherlock smiled quietly and flicked through the channels before stopping on a CSI programme. "Let's count how many errors they make." 

John snorted, doubtful that Sherlock could still perform under the influence of the drink. 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "I spot doubt. Bring it! I will get the end right after less than ten minutes. And if I don't, I'll take a shot." 

"Alright." John laughed, drunk Sherlock is apparently also cocky Sherlock... though on second thought, Sherlock is always cocky anyway. "Go on. Impress me." 

Sherlock grinned and settles into the sofa to start his deductions in silence. Around 7 minutes later, Sherlock spoke up. "It was the sister with a hammer, she threw it over the cliff." He looked over smugly. "I bet you." 

"We have to watch until the end to see if you're right!" John protested, but he knew Sherlock probably was.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Whatever." His concentration was already gone though as he stared at the screen. As the programme neared its end, sure enough the hammer was found and the sister arrested, and a huge 'told you so' grin erupted from Sherlock.

John pretended to roll his eyes and shake his head, hiding his smile. "So what do I owe you again?"

Sherlock thought for a second before replying. "I don't care. I guess you'll feel stupid enough not to have got it. Even Mycroft could." He said snidely.

John scoffed, his good mood dissipating, "Alright then." he said sarcastically, "Congratulations to him." 

Sherlock scowled. "Don't look like that; you got me drunk you deal with it." He stood up and went to the fridge, grabbing an apple. 

John pinched the bridge of his nose; "I didn't know you became such an arse when you got drunk." he shot back.

Sherlock gritted his teeth. "I bloody told you!" He took a bite from the apple snappily. 

Definitely his teenager phase, John thought, leaning back on the sofa, deciding to ignore the other man and leave him to his apple.

Sherlock glanced over moodily and grumbled under his breath. He took a huge bite of the apple and crunched on it noisily. 

John purposefully ignored him, keeping his eyes on the television. 

Sherlock felt his frustration levels rise. He narrowed his eyes at John and pouted. "Fine. Ignore me. It's fine, I'm used to it from everyone!" He stormed out of the room and into his bedroom, slamming the door. 

John turned his head, stunned, taking a few moments to process the change of events. He deliberated going after drunk, sulky Sherlock, or letting him cool down, and in the end decided on the former option, and walked to stand in front of the door. He took a deep breath and knocked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have my D of E practise weekend tomorrow so I'm updating today!  
> Shorter chapter because my German exchange was here for the week, she was so lovely, so I've had no time to write sorry :/ I should be able to catch up the in the holidays next week :)  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resolved argument.

"Sherlock..." he started. 

“What, John?” Sherlock shouted with his face crammed into the pillow as he flopped onto his bed. 

"Can I come in?" 

Sherlock paused and sighed. “Fine. Door’s not locked.” He stayed on his stomach in a starfish shape and clenched his hands into the duvet. 

John pushed the door open, watching from the doorway. 

Sherlock turned his head slightly and huffed. "Sorry, John." 

John moved to his bed, his footsteps quiet, before he leant down, his fingers carding through Sherlock's curls. "You sulky brat." He scolded gently, teasingly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and tilted his head into the massaging fingers. He patted next to him on the bed and made a small noise of happiness. "Yeah, but you knew that already." 

John moved to sit, at that spot, his fingers still buried in Sherlock's hair. "Apparently being drunk brings out the worst in you." 

Sherlock made a groan. “Yes, but you can’t say I didn’t warn you.” He pointed out, rolling to face him.

"True." John agreed, "I guess I underestimated you, then." 

Sherlock bit back a retort and said nothing, simply enjoying the fingers through his hair. 

"Maybe you should try to sleep it off?" John suggested, after a beat. 

Sherlock made a noise of annoyance. "But I've slept already!" He whined. 

"You can afford to sleep more, you know." John told him, "You weren't drunk the last time you slept... it'll help." 

Sherlock sighed. "Alright. Sleep with me?" He rolled onto his back and looked at John properly. 

That actually made John suppress a smile, but Sherlock looked so smashed he hadn't the heart to make light of the situation. "Sure." he moved away, and then climbed into bed with him, beside him. He could smell the alcohol in Sherlock's breath; feel the warmth of his body. 

Sherlock shuffled under the covers and swung an arm over John's chest to draw him closer. "Thank you, John."

John moved closer to him, consenting, leaning into him. He was surprised by this sudden mood change. "For what?"

Sherlock closed his eyes. "For not leaving." His breathing evened out and he began to feel drowsy. 

John was struck by these words, he watched the other man's face closely, "I could never... not with you like this.." 

Sherlock smiled slightly. "You mean a highly intoxicated functioning sociopath?" 

"Only the intoxicated bit." John told him, smiling himself, "The rest of it you never were." 

Sherlock grinned. "Glad you think so." He sighed happily and put his head on John's chest. 

John moved to hold him, his own arms going around Sherlock's waist. "It's the truth." 

Sherlock snuggled into his neck and felt himself falling asleep. "L've you..." he said sleepily. "Love you too..." John murmured, kissing him softly once, watching his sleeping face. 

Sherlock moved his leg to cover John's and fell deeper into his sleep. 

John moved in closer also, enveloped in his embrace, and closed his eyes. 

A small snore escaped Sherlock's mouth, his peaceful face looking younger and less hard, and the constant mask of hiding sentiment gone. 

John chuckled, hearing that, shifting closer still, the top of his head brushing Sherlock's chin. 

Sherlock closed the gap between their heads and leant his head on John. He sighed again and his grip on John relaxed along with his other muscles.

John fell asleep to the feeling of a warm embrace, and the sound of even breathing, the beating of a human heart, as he slowly lost himself to the peaceful unconsciousness of rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh MY GOD I'm so so sorry I haven't been updating, GCSE'S are being a usual bitch and we had a german exchange over and I'm gonna be horrible again but I'm going to Germany next week on Wednesday so now update then :( Bare with me and we'll start getting into the flow of writing again, because we've finished all of the chapters on the word document now :/  
> Thank you for being patient saints,  
> Lucy


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock prepare to go to see Sherlock's parents.

The next morning, Sherlock woke up when a sliver of light hit his eyes. He groaned as a headache started to grow, his eyes blurring. He looked down to see John lying over his chest, and smiled sleepily. He ran a hand through John's hair and heard a small snuffling sound escape from him.

"Mmmm..." John groaned softly, "Sh'lock?" He murmured sleepily, his eyes still closed. 

"Shh love, go back to sleep..." Sherlock patted John's bare shoulder gently, rubbing circles into his shoulderblade using his thumb.

John mumbled something, relaxing under his touch.

Sherlock smiled and closed his eyes. A second later, they snapped open with an exclaimed "Shit!"

John startled out of his sleep, his own eyes flying open, "What?"

Sherlock rubbed his hands through John's hair. "I told Mycroft we'd go to my parents today..." he groaned, sinking into the pillow.

John blinked at him blearily, rubbing his eyes. "D'we have to go now?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Not until lunch. There are clothes and everything there so all we'll need to bring is us really."

"Mmm.." John closed his eyes again, lying back. "Tell me about them, your parents?"

Sherlock smiled. "Well, mum's a bit... bonkers. But dad calms her down. He likes to say he's the idiot of the family because me and Mycroft both got mum's brains. They'll like you, I can tell." He sighed contentedly.

John smiled, as well. "Hopefully.. They sound like good people. I can't wait to meet them."

Sherlock grinned. "Yes, just mad." He chuckled.

"Aren't we all?" John murmured, as he turned over, falling back asleep. 

Sherlock's chest vibrated with held back laughter as he tried to let John sleep.

John did manage to fall asleep despite Sherlock's outward display of amusement, and he slept soundly until late morning.

Sherlock fell asleep soon after, pulling John closer.

John woke at eleven thirty, and this time it was his turn to spring out of bed.

Sherlock sat up quickly as he felt John leap from the bed, and groaned at the sudden burst of sunlight. "J'hn?"

"It's nearly lunch!" John rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, "I didn't know we lazed in bed that long. We have to go meet your parents!"

Sherlock's eyes widened. "Crap, the car's supposed to be here at twelve!"

John dressed quickly, trying to look his best, "We'll just have to make do with it."

Sherlock nodded and scrambled out of bed. "They won't care what you look like, just be your usual adorable self." He said, pulling on clean pants and trousers.

John snorted, "What?" he stood himself before a mirror, fussing with his hair, "I'll go get lunch going."

Sherlock chuckled. "Thanks, love." He pulled on his shirt and followed John into the kitchen whilst doing the buttons up.

John moved to the stove, intent on making a quick meal to serve, as he glanced up at the clock.

"What's quick and easy?" Sherlock asked, grabbing a comb and undoing the many accumulated knots.

"Ummm..." John opened and shut some cupboards, "I could make us both a sandwich, for lunch. WIll that do?"

Sherlock hopped around as he tried to put on his socks. "Sure, it's just transport."

John rolled his eyes, in amusement, as he started to assemble the sandwich. "Here," He served both on plates.

Sherlock grabbed the sandwich and thrust it in his mouth, chewing violently. "H've y'u feen my thoeth?" He mumbled with a full mouth.

"What?" John asked, in the process of gobbling down the sandwich himself.

Sherlock swallowed and started again. "Have you seen my shoes?"

"Why, are they missing?"

Sherlock paced. "No, just can't remember wher - there!" He spotted them under his chair and scurried to put them on.

"Right, that's settled." John swallowed a mouthful of sandwich, "Mycroft will be there, yeah?"

"Should be." He drew back the curtains and peered out the window. "Yup."

John quickly took the plates to the sink, going over to shrug on a coat, 'Alright then, let's go."

Sherlock walked over and grabbed his own, sliding it on. "Right."

John held the door open then, feeling rather nervous about it all.

Sherlock walked through and saw the look on John's face. He stopped and kissed John gently on the lips. "It's going to be fine, love."

John smiled, kissing him back on the lips, "I really hope so.. I mean, I went down alright with Mycroft, right?" he licked his lips. 

Sherlock laughed. "You definitely made an impression on him, at least."

John pouted a little at that. "Not helping."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You'll be fine you marvelous man. Trust me." He took John's hand and lead him down the stairs.

John squeezed his hand. "I really hope so." He laughed anxiously, his other hand running through his hair as they reached the car, and the door swung open for them. 

Sherlock smiled what he hoped was sympathetically and climbed into the back, seeing Mycroft and Greg in there as well. "Joy of joys, the cake eater is coming too, John." He half smirked, half moaned.

John laughed, climbing in after him, as he moved to sit. "There's hardly enough space for all of us!" He laughed, practically sitting on Sherlock's lap. 

Sherlock grabbed John by the waist and pulled him onto his lap, smirking at the gawping made by Lestrade. "You two? I knew it! Why didn't you tell me it was John?" Greg swatted an arm at Mycroft.

John blushed, stammering apologies as Mycroft simply shrugged. "It wasn't a matter of importance who it would be."

Greg and Sherlock simultaneously rolled their eyes. "Yes, but it would be nice to know. At least gimme five minutes warning, My." Greg said unamusedly. Sherlock just wrapped his arms further around John and leant into his side.

John leaned his head on Sherlock's shoulder, watching the scenery go by as he worried his lip between his teeth. 

Mycroft nodded, "Apologies, love. I did not think it would bother you-"

"You call Graham 'love'? I definitely had that first, Mycroft." Sherlock butted in, trying and succeeding to annoy his elder brother. He rubbed his hand up and down John's arm soothingly.

"It's Gregory." Mycroft corrected, "And you aren't the only love in the world, Brother mine."

John looked down at him, then smiled.

Greg chuckled with John, while Sherlock scowled. 

"Whatever." He snarled. 

This weekend was going to go painfully slow, he could tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god I'm so sorry ;_; it's been more than a month and I have no excuse other than pure laziness :(  
> We're finally starting to get writing again, so hopefully things will get better now.  
> I will be away in Devon for 2 weeks but not sure when because my parents haven't told me :/  
> Hope you enjoyed (and forgive me!)


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the Holmes's

John looked to him, still smiling, as he stroked his thigh, wanting to calm him down.

Sherlock swallowed his annoyance down and smiled at John and the pleasant stroking. Greg cleared his throat in the growing awkward silence and opened his mouth to speak. “So John, how long have you two been together?” 

John looked to Sherlock, smiling a little. "What, a few weeks? It hasn't been long, for us... What about you and Mycroft? You never mentioned... It. I thought you were newly divorced."

Greg pulled a 'not-bad' Obama face and smiled. "Nice. It's been, what, a month and a half? Yeah, divorced four months ago."

John smiled. "How did you two..?" He looked between them. "Get together, then?"

Greg chuckled. “Well Sherlock was being the usual shit that he is in a bad mood, so I took it to extreme measures and called Myco here.” He grinned, looking at a blushing Mycroft.

Mycroft was flushing slightly, eyes averted before they met Greg's, and he smiled, taking his hand. "Yes, that is so." He felt the need to say. 

John smiled broadly. "That's great." He ventured to say, looking over to Sherlock and smiling. "Congratulations love. You have yet another career option as a matchmaker." He teased. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and pulled a face of mock disgust. “That honestly sounds like the worst profession anyone could go into!” He looked out the window and made a noise. “Christ sake, we aren’t even halfway yet...” He moaned.

John laughed, looking out the window as well. He felt butterflies in his stomach, a little nervous about the whole thing, but somewhat excited, as well.

The journey fell into silence for most of the rest, except for the buzzing of Mycroft's phone when Anthea texted him. About 20 minutes later, the car pulled into a long, narrow windy road covered by the trees. A large entrance waited at the other end, and Sherlock made a noise. "Finally. She got rid of that bloody gate."

"What gate?" John wanted to know.

Mycroft made a noise, shaking his head at his brother. 

Sherlock grimaced. “Long story short there was a huge iron gate that was actually more terrifying than Anderson’s lack of knowledge.”

John tilted his head, 'What could be so terrifying about a gate?"

Mycroft butted in. “Gargoyles.” He said shortly, looking at his brother in an amused way.

"Gargoyles...?" John echoed, not quite understanding, "I still don't get it..."

Sherlock gritted his teeth. "Because it's personal and I don't want the whole world knowing."

Mycroft went ahead anyway. “Lockie here used to have a nanny that looked like one of the gargoyles on the gate. She was... an interesting and amusing character to say the least.”

Sherlock muttered “She was an utter arse.”

John looked torn between laughing and comforting Sherlock, but nodded and fell silent.  
Greg shot them a curious look. 

Sherlock smiled at Greg fakely, but it was faked so well it passed as a real one. “Here we are then. Brace yourselves for the hugging and endless sentiment.” He chuckled.

"Right... Looking forward to it." Greg laughed, nudging Mycroft.

Sherlock squeezed John's hand. "It's fine." He smiled, opening the car so John could hop off of his lap.

John hopped off his lap, shooting him a small smile. Now he faced Sherlock's childhood home, his jaw dropping. John was struck speechless now. "Wow..."

Sherlock and Mycroft both smirked. “Yup.” Sherlock laughed, popping the ‘p’.

Greg seemed really impressed as well, "Bloody hell, Myc..."

Mycroft chuckled. "Indeed, Gregory. Ah!" He spotted two figures walking towards them and took a deep breath. 

Sherlock plastered a sickly-sweet smile onto his face and greeted his parents.

John looked stricken, then smiled and reached a hand to introduce himself, whilst Greg waited his turn."Hello... I'm John..."

Mummy Holmes grinned happily and went straight in for a hug. “Hello John, I’m Violet. Lovely to meet you.” 

John went a bright shade of red as he felt his hand squish into places he had never wanted to touch. “You too!” He felt the air in his lungs slowly be squeezed out by the force of the big woman’s hug.

Sherlock snorted, urging a beautiful glare from Mycroft. 

John shook Sherlock’s father’s hand and expected a booming voice: instead, a gentle sound came from the man. “Welcome to our home, John. I’m Siger. You work at an Aquarium, I see?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “As you can tell, I got the brains from mother.”

Violent shook her head and chuckled. “Doctor, dear. Ex military! You’re rather useless with your deductions in your old age.” She teased.

Siger faked disgust. “Me, old? Well I never.”

Greg introduced himself, and they soon started wandering up to the house, the Holmes parents chatting about the journey and questioning John and Greg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am actually so ashamed that's it's been a year, so first of all I'M SO SORRY PLS LOVE ME
> 
> Secondly, I've finished GCSE'S so I have 2 months holiday now!
> 
> Thirdly, my other writing partner and I basically lost touch, but I have found a new writing partner, and hopefully this story will finally be finished soon :)


End file.
